His presence

His presence
Chapter 30

The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the bunker, but I could not shake the feeling that something else was alive in the silence. Watching. Listening.

Cole moved with precision through the safe house, checking corners, tracing wires along the walls, unscrewing vents. His every motion was sharp, deliberate. He was hunting for something I could not see.

“Sit still,” he said without looking at me.

“I cannot,” I snapped, pushing up from the couch. My legs trembled with exhaustion, but I refused to fold back down. “You are acting like if we just hide long enough, this will all go away. But it will not. Kyle is out there. He knows where we are. He always knows.”

Cole pried a vent cover off the wall, his jaw tight. “Which is why I am making sure he does not already have eyes in here.”

I crossed the room, my chest tight, my voice sharp. “You are not listening to me. I cannot keep running from him. I have to face him. I have to look him in the eye and make him explain why.”

Cole turned then, the vent cover still in his hand, his gaze cutting through me. “And what if you do? What do you think you will hear, Tess? An apology? Some confession that will make all of this easier to swallow?” His voice hardened. “You will hear exactly what he wants you to hear. And it will destroy you.”

I flinched but held my ground. “You do not know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Cole dropped the vent cover onto the table with a clang. “I have seen men like him. They are poison. They do not break you with bullets. They break you with love. And when they are done, you will not recognize yourself.”

My throat ached, but the anger inside me burned hotter than the fear. “Then let me decide if I can survive it. I am not some fragile thing you have to lock in a cage.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment the room felt charged, like lightning waiting to strike. Then he turned away, muttering under his breath as he unscrewed another panel.

The silence between us was heavy, broken only by the click of his tools and the pounding of my heart.

Minutes stretched until finally Cole stilled, his hand closing around something buried behind the wall. When he pulled it free, the air left my lungs.

A tiny black device, no bigger than a coin, sat between his fingers.

A bug.

My stomach dropped.

Cole’s voice was low, almost a growl. “I told you. He is always watching.”

I stumbled back, my pulse roaring in my ears. “How long has it been there?”

“Long enough.” He crushed the device in his palm, the plastic snapping under the force. His eyes found mine, steady and cold. “Every word you said tonight, every tear, every whisper. He heard all of it.”

The floor tilted beneath me. I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking my head. “No. No, he would not...”

Cole slammed his fist onto the table, making me jump. “Stop defending him. You need to understand what we are up against. He is not just a man. He is a machine built on control. And you are his favorite lever.”

My breath came in ragged gasps. I wanted to scream, to deny it, to claw the walls until they cracked. But then Cole reached for a folder tucked into the corner of the desk.

He slid it across the table toward me. “Look.”

I hesitated, my hands trembling as I pulled the folder open.

The first photo stopped my heart.

Me. Standing on the pier last night, my face pale in the dim light, my body half-hidden behind the car. Another photo. Me running after Cole into the shadows. Another, even closer, capturing the terror in my eyes as if the camera had been inches away.

There were more. A dozen shots. Every angle. Every vulnerable moment.

The room tilted again, bile rising in my throat. “How...how did he get these?”

Cole’s voice was quiet now, but no less sharp. “Because we were never alone. His men were there. Not just watching the docks. Watching you.”

The photos slipped from my hands, scattering across the table. My knees gave out, and I dropped onto the couch, my chest caving under the weight of it.

Cole watched me for a moment, then knelt in front of me again, his voice lower now, steadier. “He will use these. He will send them to you, to the press, to anyone he wants. He will remind you that no matter where you run, he can find you. That is how he works.”

Tears blurred my vision, hot and relentless. “So what do we do? Keep hiding? Keep waiting for him to show me another piece of how trapped I am?”

Cole’s eyes burned into mine. “No. We make the next move before he does.”

The words rattled through me, sparking something between fear and defiance.

But before I could respond, the faint buzz of Cole’s phone cut through the silence. He glanced down, his jaw tightening as he read the screen.

His eyes lifted to mine, and for the first time since we stepped into this bunker, I saw something that made my blood run cold.

Shock.

“What is it?” I whispered.

He turned the phone so I could see.

It was a photo. Fresh. Taken from outside the safe house.

Me, sitting on the couch, my arms wrapped tight around myself.

The timestamp read less than a minute ago.

My chest seized, my breath locking in my lungs.

Cole stood, his weapon already in hand, his voice sharp as glass.

“He is here.”