20 - The Driver

20 - The Driver

The room was nothing special. A standard motel layout—two beds, a small wooden table, and a heater that rattled every time it kicked on.

Aaron dropped his duffel on the floor, already unzipping his coat. “Dibs on the bed near the window.”

Shane huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a fresh towel from the bathroom shelf. “I’m taking a shower.”

Aaron waved him off, already distracted with his phone.

The sound of running water filled the small space, the pipes creaking as the shower warmed up. Aaron took the chance to relax, kicking off his boots and sinking into the mattress.

When the bathroom door finally opened, steam poured out, curling into the cooler air of the room.

Aaron looked up without thinking—

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

Shane stood in the doorway, towel slung loosely around his waist, rubbing another against his damp hair. His skin was still flushed from the heat, droplets of water trailing down his torso before disappearing beneath the towel.

Aaron swallowed.

Shane, oblivious, tossed his towel onto the chair and stretched, rolling out his shoulders. “Hey, so about earlier…”

Aaron snapped his eyes away, suddenly feeling very focused on his phone screen. “Earlier?”

Shane sat on the edge of his bed, resting his arms on his knees. “Lucas.”

Aaron stiffened.

Shane glanced at him, waiting. "It just seemed very obvious you guys have a....thing going."

Aaron didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened around his phone.

Shane sighed. “Look, I’m not prying. I just think—”

“I can’t talk if you’re just standing before me like that.”

Shane blinked, clearly confused. “What?”

Aaron cleared his throat. “I mean—put on a damn shirt, man.”

Shane snorted but didn’t argue. He grabbed the nearest t-shirt from his bag, yanking it over his head. “Better?”

Aaron exhaled. “Much.”

Shane leaned back against the headboard, letting the silence settle. He wasn’t pushing, which Aaron appreciated.

For now.



Hera shut the motel room door behind her and let out a breath. The day had been long, draining in ways she didn’t want to unpack just yet. She flicked on the bedside lamp, its dull glow barely reaching the corners of the small space. The heater rattled in the corner, struggling against the cold seeping through the thin walls.

She sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her hair. The tension in her shoulders refused to ease, but at least here, in the quiet, she could pretend for a moment that the world outside didn’t exist.

Her phone buzzed against the nightstand.

She frowned at the caller ID. Winston's Home for the Elderly.

A familiar tightness wrapped around her chest. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in months. Not because she didn’t want to—but because it was easier that way.

Still, she answered. “Hello?”

“Hera? Is that you?”

Her breath hitched. She gripped the phone tighter. “Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”

A soft hum of relief came through the line. “Oh, baby… I’ve been thinking about you. You don’t call enough.”

“I know.” Hera’s throat felt dry. “I’m sorry. Work’s been…” She trailed off. Excuses felt hollow, but her mother didn’t press.

“That job of yours. Always keeping you busy.” Patricia chuckled weakly. “Are you eating enough? Sleeping?”

Hera exhaled a quiet laugh. “Trying to.” Her breath grew louder. This was a rare moment. She as speaking to her mom and she didn't have to worry about the inevitable. It felt safe. Felt kind. Felt like exactly what she needed.

For a moment, it almost felt normal. The warmth of familiarity wrapped around her, fragile but real. She leaned into it.

Then the normalcy broke. She could feel it before her mother even spoke.

“Wait…” A pause. Then, a shift in her voice—uncertainty creeping in. “Who is this?”

Hera froze. “Mom, it’s me.”

“No, my daughter is in the Navy.” The warmth was gone, replaced by something brittle. Uneasy. “I don’t know who this is.”

Hera sat up straighter. “Mom, it’s me. It’s Hera.”

“No. This is not Hera. I don't know who you are—.” The confusion in Patricia’s tone cracked into something closer to fear. “I don’t—I don’t know why you’re calling me.”

A voice murmured in the background. A nurse, maybe. “Mrs. Snow, everything okay?”

Then the line went dead.

Hera stared at her phone, heart pounding. The weight in her chest had nothing to do with exhaustion anymore. Slowly, she placed the phone face-down on the nightstand and lay back against the pillows.

She stared at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything all at once.



The motel room was quiet except for the hum of the heater struggling against the biting Alaskan cold. Dim yellow light pooled from a single bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the walls. Aaron lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing heavily on his body but refusing to drag him under. The day had been long—between the confrontation with Talia, the frustrating room situation, and Hera’s unsettling call with her mother—his mind was a tangled mess.

Across the room, Shane was sprawled on his bed, arms folded behind his head. His breathing was steady, calm, but Aaron knew better than to assume he was asleep. He would expect nothing less from an ex CIA agent.

Then, a vibration cut through the quiet.

Aaron turned his head slightly, watching Shane pull his phone from the nightstand and glance at the screen. A small, knowing smirk pulled at Shane’s lips as he answered.

“Jess.” His voice was soft, affectionate.

Aaron let out a noncommittal grunt and turned back toward the ceiling. He had nothing against Shane’s girlfriend—she seemed perfectly fine from the little he knew about her—but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen in on their conversation. He focused on the heater instead, letting its low hum drown out the occasional murmured words from Shane.

Then Shane sighed, pushing himself up to sit at the edge of the bed. “I was planning on a little FaceTime with her.”

Aaron frowned slightly, not catching on immediately. “Okay…?”

Shane gave him a pointed look, then a slow, lazy grin.

And that was when it clicked.

Aaron’s stomach tensed slightly as realization settled. Oh.

He sat up. “Oh, come on.”

Shane just chuckled. “Hey, I was hoping for my own room, remember? Blame Jacob’s assistant.”

Aaron groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Go into the damn bathroom. I’m not leaving the room for you.”

Shane laughed, stretching his arms over his head before standing. He grabbed his phone and started toward the bathroom. Just before he could disappear inside, Aaron snatched a roll of tissue from the nightstand and chucked it at him.

“For your tears,” he muttered.

Shane caught it easily, shaking his head. “Hilarious.”

Just as he was closing the bathroom door behind him, a voice rang out through the phone.

“Hi, Aaron!”

Aaron, still sitting on his bed, sighed. “Hi, Jess.”

The door shut, and silence settled back into the room.

Aaron exhaled slowly, shaking his head. The air inside the room felt warm, almost too warm. He ran a hand over his face before getting up and stepping toward the balcony. The cold night air would help.

The moment he opened the sliding glass door, the chill hit him hard. A sharp contrast to the thick warmth inside, but he welcomed it. He stepped out, his breath curling in the air as he leaned against the railing, looking out at the quiet street below.

At first, there was nothing remarkable about the scene. A mostly empty parking lot, a few dimly lit motel signs flickering in the distance. Then, his gaze landed on a dark car parked directly across from them.

Aaron frowned. The headlights were off, and there were no other cars parked close enough to suggest it belonged to another guest. But there was someone inside.

He squinted, trying to get a better look. The driver was sitting still, facing forward. At first, Aaron thought they might just be waiting for someone. But as the seconds stretched, that nagging feeling in his gut twisted tighter.

The driver wasn’t just sitting there. His eyes were looking at the window. Right at Aaron.

A cold prickle ran down Aaron’s spine. He knew the difference between someone idly sitting in a parked car and someone deliberately observing. This wasn’t casual.

His fingers curled against the railing. The motel wasn’t exactly a high-traffic area; they’d chosen it for that reason. That meant either this was a coincidence… or it wasn’t.

He didn’t like those odds.

Aaron took a slow step back, the unease settling deep in his gut. The driver still hadn’t moved. His posture was too rigid, too focused.

A second later, as if sensing his scrutiny, the driver shifted ever so slightly. Their head tilted just enough for Aaron to see the gleam of eyes staring straight at him.

His stomach tightened.

Then, deliberately, the driver lifted a hand… and tapped two fingers against the steering wheel.

Aaron’s breath hitched.

He took another step back, gripping the doorframe. His instincts screamed at him to go back inside, to get Shane, to do something.

But just as quickly as the moment started, the figure in the car turned their head away. The engine rumbled to life, and the vehicle pulled out of the parking spot.

Aaron didn’t move. He stayed frozen, watching as the car eased down the road and disappeared into the night.

Only when it was completely gone did he let out the breath he hadn’t reaized he was holding.

He swallowed hard, then turned back inside, sliding the balcony door shut behind him. His heartbeat was still slightly uneven.

What the hell was that?