Back in shadow

Bella pulled back into the shadows, making sure no one saw her. She didn’t plan to confront her mother—*not yet.* She needed time to think, to decide what to do with what she now knew.

Back at home, she wrote it all down in a hidden journal. Names. Places. The red crest. Rafael.

But one name was missing—the man standing silently behind her mother during that meeting. He hadn’t spoken. Just observed. Sharp jawline, ink on his hands, and eyes that scanned the room like a predator.

Bella had never seen him before.

But she felt something the moment she did.

Not fear. Not yet.

*Curiosity.*

The next night, Bella returned to the warehouse.

She needed to know more—not just about her mother, but about *him*—the man who stood behind her like a shadow.

She found her spot again, hidden in darkness, watching through a cracked window.

Inside, her mother and Rafael were speaking in hushed tones. Men moved crates, whispered orders. But this time, the silent man was alone—leaning against a pillar, smoke curling from a cigarette between his fingers.

Tall. Sharp features. A faint scar near his eyebrow. Eyes cold but calculating, always scanning.

Suddenly, his head turned.

Right at her.

*Bella froze.*

For a heartbeat, their eyes met through the glass.

He didn’t move.

He just stared—expression unreadable. Curious? Angry? Amused?

Then, slowly, he smiled.

Not kindly. Not cruelly. But knowingly.

**He had seen her.

And he wasn’t surprised.**

Bella stumbled back, heart pounding.

Who was he?

Why did he smile like he already knew her?

She didn’t know it yet, but that man…

was about to change everything.

*Scene: The Smile That Follows*

Bella ran back to her car, heart thudding against her ribs.

*He saw me… and he didn’t alert anyone.*

That smile haunted her. It wasn’t threatening. It was worse—*inviting.* Like he was waiting for her to come back.

The next day, she tried to focus. Scouty was home, acting like nothing had happened. Bella watched her move, talk, smile. Everything felt like a performance now.

But her mind kept drifting…

*To him.*

That night, Bella didn’t return to the warehouse. But from her window, she saw a black motorcycle parked across the street.

No movement.

No driver.

Just… waiting.

And somehow, she *knew*—it was him.

He wasn’t hiding.

He wanted her to know he was there.

The motorcycle was gone by morning.

Bella stood at the window longer than usual, staring at the spot where it had been. The street was quiet, but her chest wasn’t.

Later that evening, her curiosity got the better of her. She went outside, trying to convince herself it was just a coincidence. Just some biker. Just… nothing.

But near the gate, she found something.

A black *leather glove*, clean, expensive, intentional.

Inside, folded neatly, was a note written in bold, slanted handwriting:

*“You should be more careful where you hide.”*

— No name. Just a faint trace of cologne.

Bella’s fingers curled around the glove.

He knew.

He saw her.

He let her go.

And now, he was playing a game.

She didn’t know his name. But she knew what kind of man he was—the kind who doesn’t ask permission to enter your life. He just does.

And worst of all…