Page 34 of You've Got The Love
I can’t stop thinking about Bea, Andrea, and Jess.
Are they okay? It’s killing me that I can’t speak to Bea. I’ve never gone this long without talking to her before. I didn’t want to put anyone else in harm’s way, so I’m getting Jess tokeep her updated.
Are the Reapers watching them? Did my disappearing drag them into this mess? Are Dad’s men looking after them well? I bet Jess is loving having a biker guard.
The urge to reach for my phone is a physical ache. I want to text Andrea something stupid and normal—Water the orchids. Feed the foxgloves. Or message Jess one of our silly memes about customers who think baby’s breath is edgy—anything to remind me that my life still exists somewhere.
But the burner phone sits in my lap, dark and silent, and I know that the second I use it, someone could trace us. Someone could find us. If willing my dad to call me actually worked, he would have called by now. But I know things aren’t sorted—the Reapers’ presence at the market proved that. They’re still after me.
I rub my thumb over the phone case and force myself to put it back in the glove box. I can’t risk them.
“Almost there,” Bas says, his voice low and rough from hours of quiet.
I blink and lift my head, catching the first sight of Copenhagen. Soft-coloured buildings rise against the evening sky, glinting water threading between them. Bikes zip along cobblestones. It’s beautiful, like a storybook.
I should be in awe. I should want to snap photos or soak it all in. But all I can think about is how danger could be anywhere.
Every car behind us makes my stomach twist. Every group of men on the street looks like they might pull a gun.
“Are we actually going to stay here?” I ask after a long stretch of silence.
“That’s the plan,” he says, eyes on the mirrors. “Quiet spot. No one will find us.”
“You sound so sure,” I murmur, curling my arms around my knees.
“I’m sure enough for both of us,” he says, and there’s a thread of dry humour in his tone that makes my lips twitch despite the tension.
“Confident much?”
He finally glances my way, his mouth pulling into the smallest smirk. “Would you rather I wasn’t?”
“No,” I admit. “You’re terrifying enough when you’re confident. I can’t imagine you second-guessing yourself.”
“I don’t second-guess. I adjust.”
“Adjust?”
He shrugs one broad shoulder. “If I see a threat, I just try and adapt. You worry enough for the both of us, so I get to be the calm one.”
I snort softly. “You call this calm? You’ve been glaring at every car that gets within a hundred meters for the last nine hours.”
“That is me calm,” he says flatly.
I laugh under my breath and then wince, because it’s half-hysterical. The sound feels too loud in the cocoon of the van, like I might shatter the thin glass of safety we’re holding onto.
We weave through the city, taking turns and crossing a narrow bridge over water that reflects the muted evening light. Bas takes two extra detours, doubling back once before finally pulling into a hidden courtyard behind a row of old warehouses.
It’s quiet here, tucked away from the street, shielded from casual eyes.
“This is it,” he says, killing the engine.
I glance up at the building. It looks like an old shipping office converted into apartments, the paint faded by sea air, shutters slightly crooked. You’d never notice it unless you were looking. Which, I guess, is the point.
“Charming,” I say dryly, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I was expecting something a little more… romantic-fugitive-chic.”
He gives me a look that tells me he thinks I’m ridiculous. “You want a hotel with rose petals on the bed, you’re on the wrong trip, Bell.”
“You could at least spring for a croissant,” I mutter, grabbing my bag.
