Chapter 2 (Alina) She senses danger around Adrian

I shouldn’t have gone there. That’s the first thing I say the moment I step outside. I don’t look back at the building. I don’t slow down. I just keep walking like distance alone can fix what I’ve already done. It won’t. Nothing about that encounter felt normal. Not the way he looked at me. Not the way I spoke to him. Not the way something inside me reacted the moment our eyes met. I don’t make impulsive decisions. I don’t walk into places I’m not supposed to be. I don’t stand in front of a man like Adrian Cole and speak like I know something he doesn’t. But I did. And now it’s too late to pretend I didn’t. You’ve made it worse. I whisper it to myself like I need to hear it out loud. Because I know exactly what I just triggered. Attention. And attention around someone like him is dangerous. I stop walking for a second, just to breathe, just to think clearly. But even that feels harder than it should. His face flashes in my mind again.

That moment. That pause. That look. He didn’t just see me. He felt something. I saw it. And that’s what scares me the most. Why did you look at me like that? I shake my head immediately. No. That’s not the point. The point is I shouldn’t have gone near him at all. I should’ve stayed away, as I’ve always planned. Like I’ve always known I had to. Because Adrian Cole is not just some man I randomly crossed paths with. He’s part of something bigger. Something dangerous. Something that doesn’t end well for people like me. Or people like my sister. I start walking again, faster this time. The less time I spend thinking about him, the better. But my mind doesn’t cooperate. It keeps replaying everything. His voice. His questions. The way he didn’t dismiss me immediately, as most people would. He challenged me. And I responded. That’s the problem. I don’t respond like that. Not to strangers. Not too powerful men who could destroy everything around me without even trying. But I did. And I don’t understand why. You’re losing control.

The thought hits harder than I expect. Because it’s true. I felt it. That small shift inside me when I stood in front of him. Like something was pulling me closer when every instinct should’ve pushed me away. That’s not normal. That’s not safe. I finally stop walking when I reach the quiet street ahead. No one around. No noise. Just enough space to think. I take a deep breath. Then another. And I force myself to say it clearly. I’m not going back. That has to be the rule now. No more contact. No more warnings. No more chances for him to notice me again. Because if he does, he’ll start asking questions. And if he starts asking questions, he’ll find things he’s not supposed to find. And if that happens, no. I cut the thought off immediately. I already know how that ends. I don’t need to go through it again in my head. The past is not something I want him digging into. Not his past. Not mine. Not the connection that shouldn’t even exist.

I press my fingers lightly against my temple. Just stay away, I whisper. It sounds simple. It should be simple. But it doesn’t feel simple. Because something had already changed the moment I saw him. And I can’t ignore that. I close my eyes for a second, trying to clear my thoughts. But instead, I hear his voice again. You think that’s enough reason? The calm challenge in it. The control. The confidence. He’s exactly the kind of man I should avoid. Exactly the kind of man who doesn’t stop once he gets interested. And he’s already interested. I know he is. I felt it. I made a mistake,

The words come out quieter this time. Not just because I approached him. But because I didn’t stop myself from saying what I said. I warned him. Why did I do that? I didn’t need to. I could’ve stayed silent. I could’ve walked away. I could’ve kept everything exactly the way it was. But I didn’t. And now he’s going to think about it. He’s going to question it. And knowing someone like him, he won’t let it go easily. That’s not your problem. I say it quickly, like I’m correcting myself. It’s not your responsibility. But it doesn’t feel true. Because deep down, I know something he doesn’t. And pretending I don’t doesn’t change anything. I open my eyes again and look ahead. Then I make a decision. I’ll avoid him.

Completely. No second meeting. No explanations. No chances for things to get complicated. That’s the only way this works. That’s the only way everything stays under control. Because if I get pulled into his world, I stop myself again. No. I’m not going to let that happen. I turn to leave the street, ready to disappear into my normal routine again. But my phone vibrates. I freeze. I already know who it is before I even check. I hesitate for a second. Then I answer. Yes? You went to see him. My father’s voice is calm. Too calm. I close my eyes briefly. I had a reason. You always have a reason. There’s something sharp under his words. Something controlled. What matters, he continues, is whether it was the right move. I don’t respond immediately. Because I don’t know the answer to that. I needed to see him myself, I say finally. And? There’s a pause. A dangerous one. He’s not what I expected. That’s the safest way to say it. And what did you expect? I expected someone easier to predict.

A quiet breath comes from the other end. That’s your first mistake. I tighten my grip on the phone. I won’t repeat it. You’d better not. Silence settles for a moment. Then he speaks again. You’re not supposed to get involved. I know. You’re not supposed to draw attention. I didn’t. You went to his building, Alina. His voice hardens slightly. That is attention. I don’t argue. Because he’s right. I won’t do it again, I say. You won’t, he agrees. Because from now on, you stay away from him. My chest tightens slightly at that. I was already planning that. Good. Another pause. Then, your sister will handle the rest. That makes my eyes open. What do you mean? You don’t need to concern yourself with it. That’s not an answer. It’s the only one you’re getting. I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. That’s not a good idea. It’s not your decision. It affects me. Everything affects you; he says calmly. That doesn’t mean you interfere. I take a breath.

Anabel doesn’t take things seriously. She will. You don’t know that. I know exactly what I’m doing. That tone again. Final. Controlled. Unquestionable. I hate that tone. Because it means he’s already decided. And nothing I say will change it. You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be, I say quietly. No, he replies. You are. Silence. Then, stay away from Adrian Cole, he says. That’s not a suggestion. The line goes dead. I lower the phone slowly. For a moment, I just stand there. Not moving. Not thinking. Just feeling the weight of everything pressing in at once. He’s right about one thing. This is already more complicated than it should be. And now Anabel is involved. That makes it worse. Much worse. I exhale slowly. This is not going to end well. The words slip out before I can stop them. Because I know my sister. And I know what happens when she gets curious. Or bored. Or interested. And Adrian Cole is exactly the kind of man who would catch her attention. Not in the way he caught mine. But in a way that’s just as dangerous. Maybe more. I shake my head. No. I’m not getting involved. That’s the rule. That has to be the rule. I start walking again, faster this time. Away from the building. Away from the memory. Away from him. But something lingers. That feeling. That connection I can’t explain.

That moment when everything felt familiar. Like this isn’t the first time our paths have crossed. Which doesn’t make sense. Because I would remember. I would know. Right? I stop again. Just for a second. Just long enough for the thought to settle. Then I push it away. It doesn’t matter. Nothing about that matters. What matters is distance. Control. Avoidance. I won’t see him again. I won’t talk to him again. And whatever he thinks he feels, it will fade. It has to. Because anything else leads to one outcome. And I already know how that ends. I close my eyes briefly. Then say it, like a warning, even though he’s not here to hear it. You shouldn’t get close to me… it won’t end well.