Chapter 3 - The Ally or Enemy
The silence in the living room was heavy, a physical weight that pressed against Sarah’s eardrums. It had been three days since Mark left, and the house felt hollow, stripped of the warmth that usually came with domestic routine. Now, that emptiness was filled by Luka Moretti.
He sat in the armchair opposite the sofa, his posture rigid, a silhouette against the dying light of the afternoon. He looked like a soldier on leave, worn but alert, a man who had seen too much and said too little. To Sarah, he was the first line of defense in a world that had suddenly turned hostile.
"You should try to get some sleep," Luka said, his voice low and gravelly. He didn't look at her, his eyes scanning the darkened windows of the suburban street outside. "I’ll take the first watch."
Sarah clutched the edge of the blanket where her daughter slept. The baby, Maya, stirred in her sleep, a soft gurgle escaping her lips. Sarah looked down at her child, a wave of protectiveness washing over her. "I can’t sleep. I keep waiting for the door to burst open."
Luka finally turned his head. His eyes were dark, unreadable pools of obsidian. "Mark is gone. The people who took him—they won’t come back for you. Not yet. They want you to think you’re safe so they can strike when you’re vulnerable."
Sarah nodded, letting his logic anchor her. "That’s why I need you here. My father’s estate… they said they’d provide protection. I assumed it would be a team, but you’re the only one who showed up."
It was a small leap in logic, but in her desperation, it felt like a lifeline. She believed him. She needed to believe him. He was a stranger, yes, but he was a stranger with a purpose. He was the guardian.
"Your father was a wealthy man," Luka said, shifting his weight. "He had enemies. But he also had friends who were willing to pay to keep his legacy safe. I’m not a bodyguard in the traditional sense. I’m a… consultant. I take jobs that require discretion."
Sarah relaxed slightly, the tension in her shoulders lowering. "Can you show me the file now? The M-17 file?"
Luka hesitated. The air in the room seemed to thicken, the temperature dropping several degrees. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila folder. He placed it on the coffee table between them, but he didn't open it.
"The file is incomplete," Luka said, his voice tight. "There are pages missing. And parts of it are… dangerous. If you see them, you become a target. You have to trust me on this, Sarah. The information isn't just a list of names. It’s a key to a door that shouldn't be opened."
"But I need to know the truth," she insisted, her voice trembling. "About Mark. About Maya."
"I know," Luka said softly. He stood up and walked over to the crib, looking down at the sleeping baby. He reached out a hand, hovering it over Maya’s head, but stopping inches from her skin. His expression was unreadable. "She’s perfect. She’s strong."
Sarah watched him, a strange sense of unease pricking at the back of her neck. It was the same feeling she’d gotten when she found the coded journal in her father’s study. Luka’s movements were too practiced. His concern felt rehearsed.
She stood up and walked over to him. "What are those symbols on your hand?"
Luka’s hand shot up to cover the ink instantly. He looked at her, his eyes wide with a sudden, sharp intensity. "Nothing."
"It looked like the geometric shapes from Dad’s journal," she said, stepping closer. "The ones he drew on the back of the photos."
Luka’s jaw tightened. The muscles in his neck corded. He looked back at the door, as if listening for something. "That was a long time ago. Those symbols mean nothing to me now."
"It’s the same pattern," she pressed, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Show me the file, Luka. Please."
"I told you, it’s dangerous," he snapped, the mask of the stoic protector slipping for a fraction of a second to reveal something colder underneath. "You don’t understand what you’re asking for."
Suddenly, a screech of tires shattered the peace of the afternoon. The sound was like a gunshot, jarring and violent. Sarah gasped, stumbling back as a black sedan roared down the street, tires smoking as it fishtailed violently around the corner. It didn't slow down. It sped directly for the front porch.
"Get down!" Luka shouted.
He lunged forward, tackling Sarah to the ground just as the car slammed into the porch railing. Wood splintered and exploded into the air. The vehicle screeched to a halt inches from where Sarah’s head had been a second before. The engine idled, a low, threatening growl.
Sarah lay on the concrete floor, her breath knocked out of her lungs. Dust filled her nose, stinging her eyes. Through the broken window, she saw a figure in the driver's seat, obscured by the glare of the sun and the dark tint of the glass. They weren't moving. They were just watching.
Luka was on his knees beside her instantly, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"
"I... I think so," she wheezed. Her heart was hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears. The adrenaline was a cold shock in her veins. "Did they hit us?"
"I don't know," Luka said, scanning the street frantically. He looked back at the car. "We have to go. Now."
He helped her up, supporting her weight as she stumbled. He ushered her toward the back door, his movements jerky and frantic. They moved quickly, slipping out the back gate and into the alleyway, breathless and terrified.
They didn't stop running until they reached a diner three blocks away, collapsing into a booth in the back corner. Sarah was shaking uncontrollably, her hands gripping her daughter’s blanket. Luka was pacing, looking out the window constantly.
"We have to leave the house," he said, turning to her. "They know where you are now. That car was just a warning shot."
Sarah nodded, her mind racing. She was alive. She was safe. Luka had saved her. He was a hero. He was the only one who cared enough to protect them. The fear began to recede, replaced by a desperate gratitude.
She reached into her pocket to pull out her phone to call a cab, but her fingers brushed against something hard and cold in Luka’s pocket. It wasn't his wallet. It was a phone. A cheap, prepaid burner phone.
Her eyes darted to Luka. He was too busy watching the street to notice.
Curiosity, mixed with a sudden, terrifying suspicion, compelled her. She reached out slowly, her hand trembling. She slid her fingers into Luka’s jacket pocket and pulled out the small, black device.
The screen lit up, displaying a single, unread text message. The time on the screen was three minutes ago, just seconds before the car had attacked.
Sarah stared at the message, her blood running cold. The text was simple, direct, and addressed to Luka.
*She knows too much.*
May you like
Sarah looked up, her eyes locking onto Luka’s face. He was still watching the street, but his posture had changed. He wasn't just watching for danger. He was watching for her.
He turned slowly, a small, chilling smile playing on his lips. "You found it," he said softly.
