The safe house Adrian had chosen was far removed from the city—a quiet cabin nestled in the woods, accessible only by a winding dirt road. Evelyn stood by the window, watching the moonlight play on the surface of a nearby lake.
The events of the night replayed in her mind like a broken record. The shattering glass, the cold certainty of death just inches away, and Adrian's calm, calculated response.
She turned as he entered the room, a first-aid kit in hand.
"You're hurt," he said, nodding toward the small cut on her cheek.
"It's nothing," she replied, but he gestured for her to sit.
Reluctantly, she complied, her body tense as Adrian knelt in front of her. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he cleaned the wound, the closeness between them unsettling in a way she couldn't define.
"Where did you learn to do all this?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Adrian didn't look up. "You pick things up in certain circles."
"Certain circles," she echoed, her tone skeptical. "Like the kind that teaches you to handle an ambush?"
His hands stilled for a fraction of a second before he resumed. "Something like that."
Evelyn studied him, her curiosity outweighing her caution. "You're not just a secretary, are you?"
Adrian's lips quirked, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "What makes you say that?"
"You're too... capable. And tonight—" She paused, searching for the right words. "You knew exactly what to do, like you've been in that situation before."
Adrian leaned back, his expression unreadable. "You're right. I'm not just a secretary."
Evelyn's breath caught. She had expected denial, an excuse, anything but this admission.
"Then who are you?"
Adrian hesitated, his internal conflict evident. He had spent weeks weaving a web of lies, but Evelyn's vulnerability, her bravery in the face of danger, was unraveling his resolve.
"I'm someone who knows what it's like to lose everything," he said finally. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you don't end up on that list."
His words hung between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Evelyn wanted to press him, to demand answers, but something in his expression stopped her.
For now, she would let it go. Adrian had saved her life, and that counted for something.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Adrian met her gaze, the weight of his secrets pressing down on him. "Don't thank me yet," he muttered, more to himself than her.
Because deep down, he wasn't sure if he had just saved the innocent—or the guilty.