The safe house was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city beyond its walls. Rossy sat by the window, staring out into the night, her mind replaying the events of the last few days. The adrenaline that had carried her this far was wearing thin, leaving her exhausted and raw.
Harper had managed to get her out of Zeath's reach for now, but she knew it wouldn't last. Men like Zeath didn't let go—not of their power, their secrets, or the people who betrayed them.
"You're not eating."
Harper's voice startled her. She turned to see him standing in the doorway, a plate of food in his hand. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a hint of concern.
"I'm not hungry," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You need your strength," he said, setting the plate down on the table beside her. "We've got a long fight ahead of us."
Rossy looked at him, her chest tightening. "What if we can't win? Zeath… he's everywhere. He has money, power, people who'll do anything for him. How do we fight that?"
Harper pulled up a chair and sat across from her, his gaze steady. "We fight smart. You've already done the hardest part—getting out. Now, we gather more evidence, build a case, and bring him down the right way."
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "You didn't see him, James. He's not afraid of losing. He's… unstoppable."
Harper leaned forward, his voice firm but gentle. "No one is unstoppable. Zeath's built his empire on fear and intimidation, but he's just a man, Rossy. He's made mistakes, and we're going to expose them."
His words were meant to reassure her, but they only added to the weight pressing on her chest. How could they possibly take on someone like Zeath?
An Unexpected Visitor
Hours later, as the safe house settled into an uneasy silence, a sharp knock at the door shattered the calm. Harper was on his feet instantly, his hand reaching for his gun.
"Stay here," he whispered to Rossy before moving toward the door.
Rossy's heart raced as she crouched behind the couch, her mind flashing back to the warehouse, the notebook, and the men Zeath had sent after her. Was it them? Had they found her?
Harper opened the door cautiously, his body blocking most of the entryway.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone low and wary.
Rossy strained to hear the response, her breath catching as a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"I'm here to talk to her, not you."
Zeath.
Her blood ran cold, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the couch. How had he found her? And worse—why had Harper let him through the door without a fight?
"Rossy," Zeath called, his voice calm but commanding. "I know you're here. Come out. We need to talk."
Harper stepped back, his jaw clenched as he allowed Zeath to enter. Rossy's heart pounded as she slowly stood, her legs weak beneath her.
Zeath's eyes locked onto hers the moment she appeared, his expression unreadable. He looked the same as always—polished, composed, and dangerous.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I came to bring you home," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Home?" she repeated, incredulous. "You think I'm just going to go back with you after everything I've seen? After everything you've done?"
Zeath's gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "You've been lied to, Rossy. Harper has filled your head with ideas that aren't true."
Harper scoffed, stepping forward. "Don't even try to spin this, Zeath. She saw the notebook. She heard what you said at the warehouse. You can't talk your way out of this."
Zeath's eyes flicked to Harper, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "Stay out of this, Detective. This is between me and my wife."
Rossy's stomach twisted at his words. "Your wife?" she said, her voice rising. "Do you even hear yourself? You've been living a double life, running a criminal empire behind my back, and you think you can just walk in here and claim me like nothing's happened?"
Zeath stepped closer, his expression darkening. "Everything I've done, I've done to protect us. To protect you."
"Protect me?" she repeated, her voice breaking. "From what? From the truth? From you?"
For a moment, the room was silent, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Then Zeath spoke, his voice low and dangerous.
"You don't understand what you're getting into, Rossy. The people I deal with… they don't play games. If you keep pushing, you're going to get hurt."
"Is that a threat?" Harper asked, his hand hovering near his gun.
Zeath didn't look at him. His eyes remained locked on Rossy. "It's a fact."
Her heart ached as she stared at the man she had once loved, the man she thought she knew. But the Zeath standing before her now was a stranger—a stranger who would stop at nothing to maintain his power.
"I'm not going back with you," she said firmly, surprising even herself with the strength in her voice.
Zeath's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. "Rossy—"
"No," she interrupted, stepping back. "You don't get to decide for me anymore. I'm done being in the dark. I'm done being afraid."
Zeath's expression hardened, but before he could respond, Harper stepped between them.
"You heard her," he said. "Now leave."
Zeath's eyes flicked to Harper, his lips curling into a cold smile. "This isn't over."
With that, he turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
Aftermath
Rossy sank onto the couch, her body trembling with the weight of what had just happened. Harper sat beside her, his presence steady and grounding.
"You did good," he said quietly.
She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "It's not over. He's not going to stop."
"No," Harper admitted. "But neither are we."
As she wiped her tears, a spark of determination lit in her chest. Zeath might have power, but she wasn't the same woman she'd been before. She wouldn't let him control her anymore.
Whatever it took, she would fight back.