The café smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, but the warmth felt hollow.
Lilith stood behind the counter, moving mechanically—pouring coffee, handing out change, offering hollow smiles. Her regulars barely noticed, but Athena, who'd returned with pastries in hand, saw right through the façade.
"You're shaking," Athena whispered.
Lilith didn't respond. She was staring at the door, at the spot where Victor's messenger had stood just hours earlier. The man had spoken gently, almost politely, but his words had cut through her like glass.
Victor was watching. Waiting. And she was running out of time.
"Maybe I should close early," she murmured.
"You should've stayed home," Athena said softly. "But since you're here—go sit. I'll take the counter."
Lilith gave in. She took a seat at the back table, next to the tall bookshelf. For a moment, she let herself exhale. But the reprieve didn't last.
Her phone buzzed. No name. Just a message.
"Time's almost up, sweetheart. He may trust you now, but we both know how fast that crumbles."
She deleted the message instantly. Her fingers trembled, not from fear—but from rage.
She had lived in shadows long enough. She'd made mistakes, yes. But she had clawed her way into some kind of peace. And now Victor wanted to drag her back into that world again—for what? Revenge? Control?
Athena returned with a cup of tea. "You okay?"
Lilith nodded, but her voice betrayed her. "I don't know how much longer I can pretend everything is fine."
Athena reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Then don't pretend. Let me help."
Lilith looked at her, eyes rimmed red. "He threatened Arnold. He said if I don't deliver internal information from Blaze Enterprises... he'll stop being 'civil.'"
Athena went still.
Lilith continued, voice cracking, "He doesn't want money. He wants leverage. Power. And he thinks I'm his way in."
Athena's voice was firm. "You're not. We'll find a way out."
Lilith almost smiled. "How? Every option ends in someone getting hurt."
Athena leaned forward. "Then we find a new option."
—
That night, Arnold sat in his office long after everyone else had left. The building was silent, but his mind wasn't. He kept picturing Lilith—alone in her café, her eyes flinching from the man's voice.
He didn't know if he could trust her. But he knew this: Victor Sterling had crossed a line.
And Arnold didn't forgive trespassers.