The bell above the café door chimed for the third time that morning, and i didn't bother locking up. My hands were deep in muscle memory, steam hissing, milk swirling, espresso dripping. The hum of conversation blended into the warmth of the café.
"Here you go" I mumured, sliding the finished drink across the counter. A mocha latte with oat milk and two pumps of hazelnut. The guy grinned like i'd handed him a winning lottery ticket.
"Thanks, sweatheart " he said.
I hated that word. But i smiled anyway.
"Have a good day" I replied, voice sweet enough to rot teeth. As he walked away i wiped my hands on a towel and let out a quiet breath. The day had started, but the ache in my shoulders was crawling in. I leaned against the counter and glanced at the clock. Five more hours.
Five more hours pretending i was just another girl. Not a ghost. Not a target. With chipped nail polish and a cracked phone screen.
But then the bell rang again. This time i looked up, and everything inside me stilled.
Two men walked in. Not together. Not separaretly. It was synchronized. Like they don't speak to move as one.
The taller one was dressed in a crisp black suit, not a singel hair out of place. He looked like someone born into money and murder.
Cold eyes, cold smile.
The other had patience for pretense. Leather jacket, jaw clenched, eyes burning with something too close to rage.
My gut twisted.
They didn't belong here. Not in this sleepy little café. Not in my carefully structured lie of life.
But i kbew were they were.
Renji and Akira Saito.
The Saito brothers. The crown princes of the underwold Yakuza.
And they looking directly at me. I dropped my gaze, pretending that i checking the maschine, pretending that i was chocking on fear. My hands shook slightly. I oulled them behind the counter.
They couldn't know. They coudn't have found me.
It's been five years. He's dead. I buried everthing. I became someone else.
"Two black coffees" a low voice said. I looked up. The younger one- Akira- was leaning against the counter, too close, like he didn't know the meaning of personal space.
Or maybe he just didn't care.
"Sure" I said, keeping my tone light.
"Anything else ?"
His gaze raked over me like a thread, wrapped in a smirk. "You look familiar."
I froze.
Renji stepped forward, smooth and quiet like a shadow. "You've worked here long ?"
"A year" I lied.
"Hmm" He tilled his head. "Strange, i feel like we've met before."
"Nope" I said. "Must be confusing me with someone else."
Akira smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Oh," Akira said, tapping his Finger on the counter, "I never forget a face."
Shit. They found me.