Chapter 33 Chapter 33

Chapter 33 Chapter 33
Ciara’s POV 

"I can’t, sorry."

The words came out of my mouth before I could overthink them. I wanted to say yes, but my life was too much of a mess to start getting involved with a new person. 

Elijah didn't look offended. He didn't push or try to make me feel guilty for saying no. He just gave a small, easy nod and adjusted his seat. "Alright. Another time."

That was it. There was no long, awkward silence. He didn't make it weird for the rest of the trip. He just went back to his tablet, and I leaned my head back against the headrest.

The plane began its descent about an hour later. I felt the familiar pull of gravity in my stomach as the nose of the aircraft tilted down. 

The cabin pressure changed. My ears popped, and a sharp, stinging pain shot through my jaw. I touched the edge of my surgical mask. The swelling was still there.

For a second, my mind drifted off to the moment I had just passed up. A normal guy. A normal date. It was everything I had claimed I wanted when I was hiding in that basement, yet I had pushed it away the second it was offered.

The wheels hit the tarmac. We slowed down, taxied to the gate, and the seatbelt sign finally turned off with a double ding.

The cabin became a mess of people standing up, reaching for bags, and shoving past each other. Elijah and I stood up at the same time. We worked together to get our bags down from the overhead bin.

"Need a hand with that?" he asked as I struggled with the weight of my carry-on.

"I've got it," I said. My stitches pulled as I lifted the bag, but I didn't let it show on my face.

We walked off the plane together. We moved through the crowd of the airport, staying close to each other because of the flow of the passengers. 

"The humidity here is no joke," Elijah said as we walked toward immigration. "You'll get used to it, but the first week is always a shock to the system."

"I've survived worse." I said.

"Hmm, I believe you." he replied with a grin.

We reached the point where the paths split toward the different baggage carousels. This was the moment where we had to separate. The crowd swirled around us, but for a second, it felt like we were in a small bubble of quiet.

He stopped and looked at me. "You sure you don't want that ticket? My friend is actually pretty good. It won't be a boring game."

I paused. I looked at his face. He looked genuine. But the habits of a lifetime were hard to break. I was Ciara Wilson now, but the ghost of Elara was still whispering that everyone was a threat.

I shook my head. "I'm sure. I have a lot to unpack. Literally and figuratively."

He didn't look disappointed. He just pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and a pen. He scribbled ten digits down and handed it to me. "Alright. I won't nag you. But if you change your mind, or if you just get bored and want someone to show you where the best coffee is, send me a text."

I took the paper and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. "Thanks, Elijah."

"Take care, Ciara," he said.

"You too," I replied.

He turned and walked toward the exit, disappearing into the crowd without looking back. 

I went through immigration, picked up my luggage, and walked out into the terminal. I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of the apartment Sloane had secured for me.

The drive was quiet. I watched the palm trees and the modern buildings flash by. Everything was clean. 

The apartment was on the twentieth floor of a glass tower. I let myself in and dropped my bags on the floor. It was a large, modern space with white walls and dark wood floors. It was beautiful, and it was empty.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. I took off my hat and carefully peeled the surgical mask away from my face. I looked at myself in the mirror.

The swelling had gone down enough to see the final results. I didn't recognize the woman looking back at me. Her nose was thinner. Her eyes looked wider. Her jaw was sharp and defined. 

I felt a strange sense of freedom. No one was watching me here, controlling my moves and Dante Moretti didn't know this place existed. 

So why did it feel so empty?

I walked back into the living room and sat on the edge of the sofa. I looked at my suitcases. I had $100 million, a new face and my freedom. But the silence in the apartment was starting to itch my skin.

For months, my life had been defined by noise. Gunshots, shouting, sirens, the constant sound of people telling me what to do or where to go. Now, the biggest decision I had to make was what to eat for dinner.

I started thinking about the flight, about Elijah, about the way he had laughed at the bad movies and how he hadn't tried to dominate the conversation. He was normal.

Normal.

That was the word that kept circling in my brain. I had spent so long fighting for a normal life, and now that I had it, I didn't know what to do with it. I was so used to being a target that being a regular person felt like wearing a suit that was three sizes too big.

I pulled the piece of paper out of my pocket. I stared at the numbers.

‘Don't do it,’ a voice in my head said. ‘It’s stupid. It’s risky.’

But it wasn't a physical risk. 

I didn't even know this man. He was a stranger from a plane.

I sat there for a long time, just looking at the number. I picked up my phone. I put it down. I walked to the window and looked out at the city.

I walked back to the sofa. I picked up the phone again. 

My heart started to race. 

I dialed the number before I could talk myself out of it. I pressed the phone to my ear and waited.

The line rang once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?" Elijah’s voice came through the speaker. He sounded like he was in a noisy place, maybe a restaurant or a bar.

I froze for half a second. My throat felt tight. I almost hung up. 

But I didn't.

"Elijah?" I said. My voice was steady.

"Ciara? Is that you?" He sounded surprised, but happy.

"Yes," I said. I looked at my face in the reflection of the glass coffee table. "Is the ticket still available?"