Leo kept an eye on him.
"We'll track down the traitors," he said quietly.
"We always do."Zayden nodded slightly, but the coldness in his gaze made it clear that when he found them, there would be no second chances.
He turned toward the door, his voice firm and final.
"Keep digging. And keep her out of this. I'll ask her about it again and see what she says next."
Leo smirked a bit. "You care."
Zayden paused for a moment. "No. I protect what's mine."
Then he left, heading up the stairs to the warmth above. He was leaving behind the shadows and silence, along with the man who knew all too well what Zayden could do when someone messed with his peace. When he stepped out of the tunnel, the entrance sealed itself, and the door blended in with the trees and branches.
He reached the front of the cabin, climbed the stairs, and opened the door, lost in thought and totally unaware of his surroundings. Zeynep was watching him, noticing he was tense.
She called his name, but he didn't respond. She called again, but still no answer. Finally, she came over and shook his arm.
He looked at her and asked, "What? Need something?"
She said, "No, are you okay?"
He shrugged and replied, "Hmm, I'm fine," before walking away. He headed to the hallway and went straight to his wardrobe. After grabbing some clothes, he jumped in the shower. The water was running, but his mind was racing, trying to figure out what to do. Should he trust her or try to catch her in a lie? She claimed she worked for a tech guy, the CEO of a startup who was selling user data on the dark web, and said she reported him to the Turkish authorities and then just vanished.. But that didn't make sense, she had been screaming, "Don't take her!" just the other day. What was really going on?
Ugh, I need to find out before she bolts. Should I test her or just ask her again to tell me the truth? Maybe I should mention how she was shouting last night about "don't take her." That might get her to spill something. Why am I being so soft on her? I should be investigating her like I do with everyone else.
He can't quite figure out why he feels such a connection with her, but he knows she's hiding something important. His gut tells him she's in trouble, and he's always the one who jumps in to help when someone is in danger.
Thinking back, he remembers: "She was running through the forest, her scarf was ripped, and she was screaming in her sleep about something. Maybe she's telling the truth, but just a part of it. There's got to be more going on that she can't share, or maybe she's…"
He shook himself awake, turned off the faucet, wrapped a towel around his waist, dried off, and got dressed. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he headed to the kitchen and found her leaning against the shelf, staring out the window.
Zayden called out, "Need anything? How about some coffee?"
Her hands were steady, but her eyes… they held shadows that felt out of place in this forest.
He kept talking, but she didn't reply. His voice faded into the background like static on a broken radio. All she could hear was the distant echo of a memory she couldn't shake.
*********
One year ago
New York was feeling louder than usual.
She walked down Fifth Avenue, tapping into the city's rhythm beneath her feet. Keeping her head low under her black cap and letting her shoulder-length black hair flow, she was all zipped up in her hoodie and comfy pajama pants. Her sunglasses were snug on her nose, helping her blend in with the early morning crowd, just another face in the bustling city.
This wasn't her first visit, but this time, she was flying under the radar; no one knew she was back, not even her team. She was relying on silence to stay incognito.
As she turned the corner near Madison, the shouts of a protest caught her attention. A crowd was waving signs and chanting a name she didn't recognize. She slowed down and squinted behind her shades.
"Who are they even shouting for?" she thought. She didn't know and honestly didn't care. Sure, social media had the scoop, but she barely had time to catch her breath, let alone scroll through feeds. Information was key, but only when she had control over it.
Letting out a sigh, she knew she couldn't avoid the crowd, and showing up late was not an option, her time was precious. Clutching her laptop bag tighter to her side, she dove into the chaos.
"Excuse me," she said, weaving through the crowd. A guy bumped hard into her shoulder.
"Watch it!" he shouted.
"Sorry," she shot back automatically, biting back her annoyance. Another elbow nudged her side, and she muttered "Sorry" again out of habit.
The noise was overwhelming, filled with fierce faces of passion and outrage. She wondered if they knew their expressions were probably getting snapped and tagged online before they even made it home. Did they even care?
After dodging through the crowd and skirting some glares, she finally stepped out onto the street. The bell above the café door jingled softly when she entered, and the chaos outside faded into the background.
The warm aromas of cinnamon, coffee, and a hint of vanilla wrapped around her like a cozy blanket. She took off her sunglasses, her black eyes reveling in the sight around the café.The vintage walls still held their charm, the brass light fixtures hadn't changed a bit, and that quirky cat figurine was still sitting by the register.
Her usual corner table was open.
She made her way to her go-to spot by the window, nestled in the shadows near the brick wall. Plopping down, she pulled out her laptop and opened it up like it was part of her daily routine. The screen fired up quickly, and her fingers started typing away, matching the smooth sounds of low jazz playing in the background.