Chapter 99 Chapter 99
Liana's Pov
The safe house was not what I had pictured. It was not a grimy bunker or some off-the-grid cabin in the woods. It was a modest, two-story duplex tucked away in a quiet part of the city, guarded by tall hedges and discreet neighbors who kept to themselves. The rain that afternoon had slowed to a misty drizzle, and the streetlights flickered dimly through the living room's sheer curtains.
Serena was sitting on the couch, legs tucked under her, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar room anxiously. She looked small in the big hoodie she'd slipped on over her hospital gown, and even smaller under the weight of confusion that shadowed every expression.
Stanley returned with the last bag and shut the door behind him. The lock clicked into place, and for the first time that day, I let myself breathe.
"Are you sure this place is safe?" I asked.
He nodded, speaking low. "It's off the grid. No connection to the hospital, no records linking her here. She'll be safe."
Safe. The word barely registered anymore.
Serena stared out the window, her fingers tracing across the foggy glass. She hadn't said much since we'd departed the hospital. There were moments during the drive when I'd notice her staring emptily at the road, her lips moving silently. She was trying, I knew. Trying to get the puzzle pieces to fit together in her head, but they wouldn't.
My phone buzzed. A text from my lawyer. A reminder, icy and implacable.
One week.
Stanley looked at me. "Is she pushing again?"
"Worse than ever," I said. "She says if we don't have evidence soon, we lose our chance."
He sighed and looked across at Serena, who had now curled up into a ball in the corner of the sofa. Her eyes were closed, but her eyebrows were screwed tightly together, as if even in sleep there was no relief.
"She still doesn't trust me," I whispered. "Not enough to speak. But you… she trusts you."
He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "I'll talk to her tomorrow. Let her settle in tonight."
\---
Morning crept in. Light filtered through the blinds, leaving golden stripes on the hardwood floor. I stood in the kitchen, staring into a cup of tea that I hadn't touched, while the news hummed quietly from the television. A report about a robbery. Another one about missing persons. The world went on, but ours had ended.
Stanley came in quietly, a tray in his hands. There were two pieces of chocolate cake and a steaming cup of cappuccino on it.
"Is she awake?" I asked.
He nodded. "Thought I'd sweeten the conversation."
I half-smiled. "Good luck."
He went upstairs, steps quiet on the stairs. I sat on the couch and waited, silence stretching tight.
Serena was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the tray in front of her. She was nibbling at the edge of the cake with her fork but had not yet taken a bite. Stanley pulled a chair up next to her and sat back, relaxed, as if they were just old friends having a conversation.
"You like chocolate, don't you?"
She nodded slightly, finally taking a forkful and chewing slowly.
"In college, you always said chocolate cake was your comfort food," he went on.
"I… don't remember college. Not all of it. Bits and pieces."
He nodded, not pushing further. "Do you remember your favorite book?"
Serena blinked, then shook her head. "No. I've been reading a lot lately though. Things I used to enjoy, I suppose. But nothing sticks."
"What about music?"
"Sometimes… songs make me cry, and I don't know why."
Stanley studied her. "Before the accident, you said you were assembling something. A document. You said it was something important."
She wrinkled her brow. "I don't think I was working on anything. At least not recently. I've been writing cover letters. I've been job hunting. That's all."
"No," he whispered. "This was before. A few weeks before the accident. You told me about it in passing. Said you were doing something for someone. That it was something sensitive."
Her eyes clouded. She looked down at her hands. "That doesn't sound like me. I wouldn't do that. I was always careful."
"You were also brave. And loyal. If someone needed something, you wouldn't have said no."
She shook her head. "It doesn't feel real. Like you're talking about someone else."
Stanley's voice dropped, softened. "You said it had something to do with Elia. That he was onto something. Can you remember anything about him?"
Serena's hand tightened around her cup. She closed her eyes. "I… I dreamed about him last night. His voice. He was calling me from a distance. I couldn't reach him."
"What was he saying?"
"I don't know. I couldn't make out the words. Just the tone. He sounded urgent."
Stanley paused, letting the silence fill the room.
"Do you remember where you last saw him?"
Serena's eyes flickered open. "No. Everything about him is like smoke. I try to grasp it, but it falls through."
Stanley reached out and gently touched her hand. "It's okay. You're trying, and that's more than enough."
She tiredly smiled at him. "I don't want to disappoint you. Or Liana."
"You're not. We just want you safe."
She leaned back against the pillows, her eyelids drooping. "I'm just so tired."
"Then rest. I'll be right here."
She nodded and rolled over, the blanket clutched firmly around her.
\---
Downstairs, I paced.
"Well?" I asked the moment Stanley came down.
He looked tired, beaten. "Nothing. She doesn't remember. Not the paper. Not Elia. Just bits and pieces."
I fell onto the couch, covering my face with my hands. "We are running out of time."
He sat beside me. "I know."
"Dominic is going to walk if we don't find something concrete. Something that connects him to Elia's disappearance. The judge won't give us more time."
I looked up at him. My voice cracked. "All we have now is Mason. And if he screws this up, we lose everything."
Stanley was silent for a while. Then he said, "We'll figure something else out. We always do."
But the weight in his voice contradicted his doubt.
And the worst thing was, I didn't blame him for it.