Page 97 of Beneath the Shadows

Dante nods, but his eyes narrow slightly. “Where do you plan to start?”

“The pawn shop,” I say, glancing at my phone, scanning the map. “I’ll see if they have any cameras or if they've sold any recently. It’s a long shot, but it's a start.”

“Just be careful,” Dante warns, his tone serious. “If Alessia’s hiding, the locals might be protecting her.”

“I know,” I reply quietly. We both understand the stakes. Draco’s ultimatum hangs over me like a guillotine, and time isn’t on my side.

Dante straightens up, cracking his neck as he does. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I lean back against the headboard, trying to slow my racing thoughts. My plan needs to be solid, but doubt keeps creeping in. Draco’s threat isn’t just words—it’s a promise. And I can't let that bastard make good on it.

* * *

The following day, I’m up long before the sun, a habit ingrained by years of living in a world where every second counts. Dante’s already awake, sipping on a cup of coffee from the gas station across the street.

“You ready?” he asks, motioning to a second cup sitting on the table.

I nod as I take a drink. There isn’t anything left to say. We both know the plan. Now it’s just a matter of execution and luck.

The out of state license plate would’ve drawn too much unwanted attention, so I walk the few blocks to Magnolia Springs downtown shopping area and head straight for the local pawn shop.

The store is cluttered, shelves crammed with old electronics, outdated jewelry, and dust-covered trinkets. The owner, a heavyset man, barely glances up from behind the counter when I step inside.

“Morning,” I say, trying to keep things casual. “I’m looking for a camera—any come through recently?”

He lifts an eyebrow, squinting at me. “Cameras? Nah, haven’t had one in here in years.”

Another dead end.

The next few days drag on slowly. I spend my time walking through Magnolia Springs, blending in as much as I can. It’s even smaller than I expected—quaint streets lined with mom-and-pop shops and the kind of charm that belongs on a postcard. I keep my distance, observing from the fringes, making sure no one’s paying too much attention to me.

Each night, I return to the motel empty-handed, feeling the pressure mount. My window of time to find Alessia is shrinking.

On the third day, it happens. I’m walking through town, making my way past the diner when something catches my eye—a woman stepping out of a door on the side of the building. She’s wearing a white T-shirt with “The Bluebird Diner” printed across the front, black leggings, and an apron tied at her waist. Her hair is pulled back into a long ponytail, and even from across the street, I know it’s her.

Alessia.

She moves with an ease I haven’t seen in her before, a lightness in her step. She stops, looking around as if she senses she’s being watched. My pulse increases, as I stand unmoving using the building in front of me as cover. After a brief pause, she shakes her head slightly and steps into the diner.

It takes everything in me to stay rooted where I am, to not cross the street and confront her. Instead, I pull out my phone and send Dante a quick text:

Me:Found her. She’s working at the diner.

Dante:What’s your plan?

Me:Looks like she’s living above the diner—saw her come out a side door.

Dante:Was she alone?

Me:Yeah. I’ll keep watching. See if anyone else shows up. Once I’m sure she’s alone, I’ll let myself in.

Dante:Let me know when you’re ready for me.

Me:Will do.

I pocket my phone and position myself across the street, keeping my distance while I watch her through the diner’s windows. She moves between the tables, smiling and chatting with customers—she seems to fit into this place so effortlessly. It’s unsettling to see her like this, so different from the Alessia I’ve always known. Here she seems happy.

I grab a newspaper and sit on a park bench across the street, biding my time. The hours tick by, and I wait for the right moment.

---