Luke's POV again....

The letter wasn’t supposed to be there.

It sat tucked between the pages of an old novel, the edges worn, the ink slightly smudged—like it had been handled too many times. Like it had waited for someone to find it.

I should’ve ignored it.

I really, really should’ve ignored it.

But something about the way it was placed, hidden in plain sight, made my fingers itch.

So I pull it free.

The bookstore hums faintly around me—soft music, distant murmurs, the occasional sound of pages turning. But all of it fades as I unfold the paper and see the five words that shouldn’t exist.

You don’t know who to trust.

The world tilts.

I inhale sharply, scanning the bookstore like someone’s watching me. Because they must be. Right?

Someone left this on purpose.

For me.

I fold it back immediately, shoving it where I found it. I don’t know why, but something tells me I shouldn’t be caught with it. That knowing is dangerous enough.

And then—movement.

Not behind me.

Not to the side.

In front.

Through the gaps between the shelves, I see her.

Sophie.

Her hands hover over the same book.

She hesitates, just for a second. Then, with a quick glance around, she opens it.

She sees the letter.

And her whole body stiffens.

I take a step back—too fast, too loud.

Sophie’s head snaps up.

Our eyes meet through the shelves, a thin stretch of air the only thing separating us.

She knows.

She knows I saw.

And worse—I know she saw.

Her breath catches. For a second, I think she’s about to snatch the letter up, run, but then—her fingers twitch.

And she does the opposite.

She tucks it back.

Deliberately.

Like she never saw it in the first place.

Like it doesn’t exist.

Why?

The realization slams into me.

She’s not supposed to have found it.

Neither am I.

The weight of it settles deep in my chest as Sophie straightens, smooths out her expression, and—**without a word—**walks away.

I stand there, frozen, pulse hammering.

She saw the letter.

And she hid it back.

Why?

That’s the moment I decide.

I need to leave it where I found it.

And pretend, just like Sophie, that I never saw it either.

I turn, ready to put distance between me and whatever the hell this is—

And walk straight into Amina.

Her eyes flick from my face to the bookshelf behind me.

Did she see?

Does she know?

Before I can say anything, a second voice cuts in.

“Luke,” Elias says smoothly, stepping out from behind Amina. "You’re looking pale. Something wrong?”

His voice is mild, too mild. Like he’s already putting together the pieces.

Shit.

I shake my head. "Just looking for a book."

Max appears last, grinning like he’s got no clue about the tension slicing the air into ribbons. "Oh! Did you find a good one? I need recommendations—I always grab whatever Amina picks, and she has the taste of a serial killer."

"Max," Amina sighs.

Elias doesn’t look at Max. He looks at me.

And for some reason, it feels like he knows exactly what I just saw.

I swallow hard.

“I—uh, gotta go.”

I push past them before they can stop me.

And behind me, Elias chuckles.

Low. Amused.

Like I just played right into his hands.

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