Part 42
The safe house had stopped feeling safe.
Adrian didn't say it aloud, but every time Leah spoke, her words landed wrong — too careful, too measured. Like someone afraid of being caught.
She'd been the one who found this place.
She knew the routes, the hours, the security codes.
And last night, when the name sunflowers flickered on his dead phone, Leah had been the only one near the window.
Now she was sitting across from him, making tea as if nothing was wrong.
Her movements calm, almost rehearsed.
Adrian couldn't stop watching her hands — the same hands that had comforted him, now suddenly suspicious.
"You're quiet today," she said.
"Just tired."
"You didn't sleep again?"
"Not much."
She looked up, her eyes searching his face — soft but weary.
"You keep looking at me like I did something."
He tried to smile, but the corners of his mouth wouldn't lift.
The image of that single word — Sunflower — flashed again behind his eyes.
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Outside, a car passed.
Neither of them noticed the faint glimmer of a lens from the treeline.
Alex watched through her scope, crouched low in the shadows.
From where she sat, she could see everything — the flicker of mistrust in Adrian's body language, the subtle tension in Leah's posture.
Perfect.
Leah had been too close lately.
Too comforting.
And Adrian's gaze lingered on her in ways that made Aura's stomach twist.
She whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible.
"You were mine first, Adrian."
The tiny transmitter in the living room light fixture blinked once — a red pulse.
Aura smiled.
She'd left it there days ago.
Soon, Adrian would hear whispers again. Footsteps when Leah wasn't around.
He'd start doubting her, just like Aura wanted.
Just as planned.
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Back inside, Leah poured the tea.
"You should trust me, Adrian," she said gently. "I'm the only one on your side."
Adrian met her eyes — tired, unsure, afraid.
For the first time, he couldn't tell if that was true.