The figure by the door didn't move. Rain dripped from the hood of their
jacket, pooling on the mat beneath their boots. Elena's breath came in shallow
bursts, her mind racing to identify the face beneath the shadowed brim.
But then, the stranger turned away—just another customer, scanning the menu
above the counter. Not him. Not yet.
Still, her heart pounded like a warning bell. Liam watched her closely, his
fingers now wrapped around the handle of a weathered black bag by his side.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.
She gave a tight nod, but her eyes betrayed her. "Yeah. Just jumpy."
Liam didn't press. Instead, he stood slowly and motioned toward the back of
the shop. "Come on. There's a booth in the corner. Quieter."
She hesitated, then followed him past the sleepy barista and the hum of the
espresso machine. In the booth, shadows pooled along the walls, muting the
outside world.
He slid in opposite her again, and for a long moment, neither spoke.
"Who was he?" Liam asked finally.
Elena shook her head. "No one. I mean… I don't know." Her voice cracked on
the last word.
He nodded. "People don't look like that unless they're used to scanning for
threats."
"You speak from experience?"
"I do."
She looked at him carefully now. "What are you, exactly?"
His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just a guy who knows when to keep
his head down."
They left the coffee shop together. The rain had eased to a misty drizzle,
and the air smelled like wet asphalt and blooming jasmine from a nearby window
box.
Liam walked beside her without asking where she was going. His presence,
quiet but constant, steadied her more than she wanted to admit.
They turned down a narrow alley flanked by brick walls, her shortcut home.
She paused halfway down.
"Wait," she said, her voice sharp.
"What is it?"
She stepped closer to the wall, crouching near a small metal box. "This was
closed when I left earlier."
Liam crouched beside her. A breaker box—now cracked open. Wires snipped.
"Someone's been here," she whispered.
"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" Liam asked.
Elena hesitated. "It's not far."
"That's not what I asked."
She exhaled. "It's a rented room above a bookstore. Paid cash. No ID."
"Still, someone found you."
She looked at him, torn between fear and defiance. "I've had worse nights."
"I'm sure," Liam said. "But maybe not tonight."
They ended up in a walk-up apartment across town. Sparse furniture, muted
colors, a camera tripod in the corner. A shelf full of photography books, a
duffel bag near the door.
"This is yours?" Elena asked, stepping inside.
"I move around. It's temporary."
She hovered near the window, staring at the glow of the city. "You're taking
a risk letting me in."
Liam shrugged. "You already know I'm not harmless."
Elena turned. "Why are you helping me?"
He didn't answer at first. Then: "Because you look like someone who needs
someone to help. And because I know what it feels like to run."
The silence between them deepened, stretching tight like a wire. Finally,
Elena sat on the worn couch and let herself breathe.
"You want the story?" she asked quietly. "Or just pieces?"
"Whatever you want to give."
"I was engaged. To a man who wasn't what he seemed. One night, he snapped.
Left me for dead." Her voice was flat, emotion held just beneath the surface.
"I disappeared. New name, new city. That was a year ago."
Liam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "He's still looking?"
"He shouldn't be able to find me. But… he's clever. And he has money."
Liam nodded slowly. "Then we'll make sure you're harder to find."
She looked at him sharply. "We?"
He smiled faintly. "I told you. I've learned to recognize when someone's
carrying more than just their own shadows."
She studied him, wondering how many of his own ghosts he hadn't spoken of.
"What's your story, Liam?"
He stood and walked to the window. "Let's just say… I wasn't always a
photographer."
The city hummed below them. Rain streaked the glass, blurring the lights.
For the first time in a long time, Elena felt something she'd nearly
forgotten.
Not safety.
Not yet.
But the possibility of it.
"You can crash here for a while. Or just warm up. Up to you."
Elena nodded, shoulders tight with uncertainty.
"I'm going to shower. You okay here?" Liam asked, already walking toward the
hallway.
"Yeah," she said, though her voice betrayed her nerves. He gave a reassuring
nod before disappearing behind the bathroom door.
Flashback
The smell of blood had stayed with her for days.
She remembered the cracked mirror, the wineglass shattered near her bare
feet, and her ex-fiancé's eyes—empty, cold, unrecognizable.
"You made me do this," he had hissed, his voice trembling with rage as he
pressed her against the wall.
Her ribs ached. Her hands were slick with blood—her own or his, she couldn't
tell.
Then silence. Then darkness.
When she woke up in the hospital, he was gone. But his voice—his
threats—remained lodged in her memory like a splinter under the skin.
The police said they'd look into it. She saw the doubt in their eyes.
So she disappeared.
Elena blinked hard, forcing herself back to the present. Her hands were
clenched into fists.
Then the bathroom door creaked open, and a cloud of steam curled out into
the hallway.
Liam emerged, a towel slung low around his hips, another in his hand as he
ran it through his damp hair.
Elena turned quickly, startled, but not before her eyes caught a glimpse of
him—broad shoulders, strong chest, droplets of water tracing a path down lean
muscle and the faint outline of a tattoo on his side.
"Sorry," he said, completely unbothered. "Didn't think you'd still be up."
She cleared her throat, averting her gaze. "I, uh… just thinking."
He noticed the flush on her cheeks, the way she was suddenly very focused on
the window.
"You alright?" he asked, his tone quieter now.
"I—yeah. Just a long day."
Liam moved to the kitchen, still barefoot, still shirtless. The casual
confidence in his movements made it impossible not to look.
Elena stole another glance—and instantly regretted it.
Or maybe not.
"I can grab a shirt if you prefer," he said without looking at her, a faint
smirk in his voice.
"I'm fine," she muttered, though her blush deepened.
Liam poured a glass of water, took a long drink, then leaned against the
counter. His eyes were darker in the low light, unreadable.
"You seem tired," he said.
"I haven't really slept in… a while."
"You can rest here. Door locks from the inside."
She hesitated, then finally nodded. "Thank you."
"Goodnight, Elena."
As she disappeared into the guest room, she could still feel the warmth of
his gaze. But what lingered more was something else—an unexpected, dangerous
comfort.
And the growing sense that Liam was far more than a stranger with secrets.
He was a complication.
And maybe… a reason to stop running.