Whisper in the dark

For a moment, all Mia could do was stare at Alex — at the bag in his hands, at the shadows under his eyes that no longer looked charming or mysterious but dangerous. Real.

The wind rattled broken panes above them, scattering shards of old glass like a warning.

Mia found her voice, though it barely felt like hers. "What was that, Alex? Who are you?"

He closed the distance between them in two long strides, but she stepped back, bumping into the cold wall behind her. She hated how her breath caught in her throat — not because he'd hurt her, but because she didn't know if he couldn't.

"Mia—" He reached for her, but she flinched. His hand dropped to his side like it weighed a thousand pounds. "It's not what you think."

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh that echoed through the hollow station. "Really? Because it looks exactly like the part in a movie where the pretty stranger turns out to be someone's getaway driver or drug mule or—" She stopped herself before her voice cracked into something ugly.

Alex raked a hand through his hair, that perfect dark hair she'd found so impossibly alluring the first night. Now it just looked like a mask.

"It's complicated," he said, and she almost screamed at how small the word felt against the cold weight of what she'd just seen.

"Try me," she shot back. Her voice trembled but she forced her chin up. "No more whispers. Tell me what you dragged me into."

Alex glanced at the bag, then at the dark entrance where the two men had vanished. When he looked back at her, his expression was raw — more honest than it had ever been.

"I owe them," he said quietly. "A long time ago, I made a mistake. They helped me out of it. I thought I'd paid my debt but… turns out they disagreed."

Mia frowned. "What kind of mistake?"

He hesitated. That tiny pause told her it was worse than she wanted to know — but she asked anyway.

"Money," he said finally. "Bad deals. People I shouldn't have trusted. I thought I could fix it with my camera — new life, clean slate. But people like that don't forget."

She shook her head, pressing her palms against the rough brick behind her. It scraped her skin but grounded her. "So you brought me here. To this place. While they— what? Threaten me to make sure you do what they want?"

"I didn't bring you here for that!" His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "I swear to you, Mia. I wanted to see you again. I thought I could keep you out of it."

"You failed," she shot back. The words stung her own throat as much as his eyes when they hit him.

They stood there for a long moment — two people who'd only known each other for hours yet were now bound together by something far heavier than flirting in a gallery.

Finally, Alex stepped closer. She didn't move this time, but she didn't reach for him either.

"Mia," he said, his voice a whisper that reminded her of that first night — soft, almost fragile. "I don't expect you to believe me. Or forgive me. But please… don't walk away. Not yet."

She wanted to laugh, to scream at him that she should walk away — that she would. But when she looked into his eyes, all she saw was that same flicker of the boy she'd fallen for in one conversation — the boy who'd talked about light and shadows like they were alive, like they could set him free.

She forced herself to breathe. One shaky inhale, one ragged exhale.

"What's in the bag?" she asked.

Alex hesitated, then opened it just enough for her to see a flash of plastic bundles — tightly wrapped, unmistakable even to someone who'd only seen them in TV shows.

Her stomach turned. "Drugs."

Alex flinched like she'd slapped him. "Not by choice, Mia. I swear."

She pressed her palms to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. She could feel the whisper in the dark again — that voice that had always kept her safe, telling her to run, to get in her car and leave him here with his secrets and his debts and his lies.

When she opened her eyes, Alex was staring at her like she was the last good thing he might lose.

"Mia, please," he said. "I can fix this. One more run, they're gone, it's over. You'll never have to see any of this again."

She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But her heart knew better.

"No," she said, her voice steady now. "I won't be part of this. I won't."

Alex reached for her but she stepped aside, out of his reach.

"You can't run now," he said, a trace of panic slipping through his calm. "They know about you. If you leave—"

"I'm already gone, Alex." Her voice cracked, but she forced her chin up. "I don't know who you really are. But I know who I am. And I'm not staying in the dark with you."

She turned and ran — boots crunching on broken glass, the wind swallowing Alex's voice behind her.

She didn't look back. Not at the broken station, not at the boy with secrets. Not at the truth she'd almost let herself love.

She just ran — into the dark, the cold night swallowing her steps. And for the first time, the whisper in the dark wasn't a secret or a threat.

It was her freedom.