Ava's POV
The darkness in the service duct was absolute. It was a thick, dusty blackness that pressed against Ava's eyes. Her hands, slippery with sweat, gripped the cold metal rungs of the ladder. Each downward step sent a bolt of lightning from her ribs down to her toes. She could hear Leo above her, his movements silent and sure, a shadow blotting out the faint light from the apartment for a moment before it was gone completely.
"Just keep going down," his voice floated to her, a calm anchor in the dark. "Twenty more rungs."
She counted in her head, her breath coming in ragged, painful puffs. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen… Her foot met not another rung, but solid concrete. She'd reached the bottom.
A moment later, Leo landed softly beside her. A small, powerful flashlight clicked on in his hand, its beam cutting a narrow path through the dusty air. They were in a cramped concrete corridor, pipes running along the low ceiling. It smelled of damp concrete and old machinery.
"This way," he murmured, taking her hand. His grip was firm, guiding. They moved quickly, he leading with the light, she hobbling beside him. The corridor twisted, then ended at a heavy metal door. Leo produced a key from his pocket, unlocked it, and they stepped through into another parking garage.
This one was smaller, older, lit by flickering fluorescent lights. A single, nondescript silver sedan was parked nearby.
"Get in," Leo said, already moving toward the driver's side.
Ava scrambled into the passenger seat. As Leo started the car, she looked back at the metal door they'd just come through. It looked like part of the wall. No handle on this side.
Leo drove them up the ramp and out into the bright, shocking morning. The world was going about its business. People were walking to work, carrying coffee. It felt surreal, like she'd been underground for years.
He drove without speaking, his eyes constantly checking the mirrors. After twenty minutes of winding through the city, they entered a quieter, tree-lined neighborhood with old brick houses. He pulled into the driveway of a small, well-kept bungalow with a covered porch. It looked completely normal.
"Where is this?" Ava asked as he helped her out.
"A property manager owns it. He rents it out. I own the property manager," Leo said simply, unlocking the front door.
Inside, it was the opposite of the sterile safe house. It was furnished, cozy even. A worn floral sofa, books on shelves, a knitted blanket thrown over a chair. It smelled of lemon polish and faintly of someone else's life. A guest house.
"It's prepped," Leo said, dropping the duffel bag by the door. "Food in the kitchen. Clean clothes in the bedroom that will fit you. Rest. I need to make calls."
He disappeared into a small office, closing the door. Ava stood in the living room, aching and overwhelmed. The adrenaline from the attack was fading, leaving her trembling. She went to the kitchen, found a glass, and drank water. She saw eggs, bread, and fruit in the fridge. The normality of it was jarring.
She wandered to the bedroom. On the bed was a stack of clothes: soft leggings, a simple sweater, and socks. All new, with the tags removed. He'd thought of everything. She changed slowly, the simple act feeling monumental. The clean clothes against her skin made her feel slightly more human.
When she came out, Leo was in the kitchen, scrambling eggs. He'd taken off his sweater and was in a plain black t-shirt. She saw the edge of a dark tattoo on his forearm before he pulled the sleeve down. He moved with the same efficient calm, but the lines around his eyes seemed deeper.
"You should eat," he said, sliding eggs onto two plates. He brought them to the small dining table.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. The food was good. Real. It grounded her.
"Thank you," she said finally. "For what you did back there. And for… the lamp thing. That was stupid. I could have gotten you shot."
He looked up from his plate. "It wasn't stupid. It was brave. And it worked. It gave me the opening I needed." He studied her. "Most people freeze."
"I was tired of freezing," she said quietly, and it was the truest thing she'd said in a long time.
A ghost of something, not a smile, but an acknowledgment, flickered in his eyes. He gave a short nod. "You should lie down again. The doctor will come here later to check you."
"What about the men? The ones outside the apartment?"
"My team handled it. The car is gone. The situation is contained." He said it with finality, and she knew better than to ask for details. Containment, in his world, probably didn't mean a friendly chat.
He stood and took the plates to the sink. His laptop was on the counter, a sleek, black thing. He opened it, his back to her, typing rapidly.
Ava moved to the living room sofa, curling up with the knitted blanket. The exhaustion was bone-deep. She watched him work. His focus was absolute. This was his domain: screens, information, silent commands. He was The Ghost here, too, moving unseen through digital networks.
Her eyes grew heavy. The food, the safety, the relentless emotional whiplash finally pulled her under. She fell into a light, uneasy sleep right there on the couch.
She woke to the sound of a soft chime. Not a phone. A laptop notification.
The room was darker; evening was approaching. Leo was still at the kitchen counter, but he was no longer typing. He was staring at the screen, perfectly still. The light from the monitor reflected in his eyes, making them look like chips of pale ice.
Ava stayed still, pretending to sleep, watching him.
He slowly reached out and tapped a key. A new window opened. She could see the glow of it from where she lay. He read for a moment, then his shoulders tightened. He closed his eyes for a second, a rare show of frustration.
Then he did something surprising. He pushed the laptop away, stood up, and walked to the large window overlooking the backyard. He braced his hands on the frame, head bowed. He wasn't checking for threats. He was just… standing there. The weight of everything the rival gang, the P.I., seemed to press down on him for the first time.
After a minute, he turned. His eyes went to her, saw she was awake. The mask was back, but it was cracked. She'd seen the man underneath, just for a second.
"We have a problem," he said, his voice hoarse.
"What kind of problem?"
"The kind that means we can't stay in the city." He walked back to the laptop but didn't sit. "Briggs, the P.I. He's better than I paid for. He's connected the dots. Not to this house, but he's identified one of my men, the one watching your sister. He's made him as security, not a neighbor. He's getting close."
Ava's stomach dropped. "So he'll know you're involved."
"He'll know a professional is involved. That changes his approach. He'll go from looking for a runaway girlfriend to looking for a missing person entangled with… my kind of people. He'll dig deeper into me. And digging into me is dangerous for everyone."
He picked up his phone, scrolled, and showed her a new photo. It was Briggs, the fox-faced man, standing outside a nondescript office building. The sign read: VITALI & ASSOCIATES - SECURITY CONSULTANTS.
"Vitali," Ava whispered, the name clicking. "Like… Vitelli?"
"A cousin. Legitimate side of the family. Briggs isn't just a random P.I. He's connected. He does work for the Vitelli family's clean operations. Which means my rival now potentially has a direct line to your hunter." Leo ran a hand through his hair. "It's a conflict of interest for Briggs, but money is money. He can sell the information about you to Mark and sell information about my movements to the Vitellis."
The walls were closing in from all sides. It wasn't just a straight line anymore. It was a web, and they were in the middle of it.
"So what do we do?" Her voice was small.
"We disappear. For real." He looked at her, his gaze intense. "We leave the city tonight. Go somewhere remote. For a while. Until I can dismantle these problems one by one."
Ava thought of Sophie. Of her own life, her design clients, her tiny apartment full of broken things. It was all gone already. "Okay," she said.
He seemed surprised by her easy agreement. "It won't be comfortable."
"I don't need comfortable. I need to not be found."
He nodded, a look of respect in his eyes. "Pack the clothes. Just the essentials. We leave in two hours."
He went back to the laptop, typing quickly, shutting down operations, moving assets. Ava went to the bedroom to gather the few things she had.
As she folded the sweater, she heard the laptop chime again with another notification. This time, Leo's reaction was different. A sharp, hissed breath.
She walked to the bedroom doorway, curious.
Leo was staring at the screen, his face devoid of all color. He wasn't reading a report. He was looking at a live video feed. It was black and white, shaky, from a moving car. It showed a familiar street—the one outside her sister Sophie's house.
The car on the feed slowed. The camera panned, focusing on a figure walking up Sophie's front steps, carrying a grocery bag.
It was Ava's sister.
And pulling up to the curb right behind her was Mark's blue car.
Leo's hand shot out to his phone. He punched a speed-dial number. It rang once, twice, three times.
No answer.
On the video feed, Mark got out of his car. He called out to Sophie. She turned, her face confused, then hardened into anger. She said something, shaking her head, backing toward her door.
Mark took a step forward, his posture aggressive.
The phone in Leo's hand rang again. Not his call is going through. An incoming call. He put it on speaker.
A voice filled the kitchen, smooth as oil. It was the man from the apartment, the one with the broken wrist. He sounded like he was smiling. "Hey, Ghost. Still got your little songbird? See, we found her nest. We thought we'd pay her sister a visit, have a chat about family loyalty. But look who showed up first! Your girl's ex is here, too. This is getting crowded. Makes things… unpredictable."
On the video feed, Mark was now on Sophie's porch, crowding her. Sophie was fumbling for her keys, her face terrified.
Leo's voice was deadly quiet. "If you touch either of them."
"What? You'll do what? You're not here. But we are. And so is he." The man's voice dropped to a mock whisper. "Here's the new deal, Moretti. You come out of hiding. You come to the west side warehouse, alone, in one hour. You settled your business with my boss like a man. No more hiding behind ducts and safe houses."
"And if I do?"
"Then my guys leave the sister alone. We might even let the ex-boyfriend have his dramatic reunion. Not our problem anymore. Your choice. Your woman's family… or your pride."
The call went dead.
Leo stood frozen, the video feed still playing on his laptop, showing the standoff on Sophie's porch. He was trapped. A direct, brutal ultimatum.
He looked from the screen to Ava, his face a storm of conflict. The plan to disappear was ashes. The war had just been brought to his doorstep, and the price of a ceasefire was him.
Ava watched the horror unfold on the screen, her sister cornered, Mark moving in, Leo's enemy offering a devil's bargain. Leo's eyes met hers, and she saw the terrible calculation. To save her, he had to walk into a trap. And if he did, the man who had become her only protector would be gone.