Elena didn't tell anyone.
Not Mira. Not her professors. Not even the landlord.
She just packed a small overnight bag, slipped on a hoodie, and booked a weekend bus out of the city. To nowhere, really. Just away.
Someplace Luca wouldn't find her.
Someplace he wouldn't follow.
The ride was quiet. The town was small. A forgotten speck on the map with two motels, one diner, and no streetlights after 9 p.m.
Perfect.
She checked into a room with no windows facing the street. No Wi-Fi. No signal.
For the first time in weeks, she breathed.
But that feeling didn't last.
---
By morning, a flower was waiting.
A daisy.
On the table inside her locked motel room.
No note. No sound. Just the flower.
She dropped it like it burned her.
Her throat went dry.
How?
She hadn't told anyone where she was. She'd paid in cash. Left no trail. There was no way—
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
She flinched.
Slowly, she opened the door.
It was the motel clerk. A man in his sixties, holding a folded slip of paper.
"Someone dropped this for you early this morning. Tall guy. Quiet. Real sharp eyes."
Elena's fingers shook as she took the paper.
> "Running is cute."
"But unnecessary."
"You're not going anywhere I'm not already in."
---
That night, she didn't sleep.
She didn't even blink.
She just sat on the bed, staring at the flower… waiting for a shadow to move.
But nothing ever did.
He didn't come.
Because he didn't need to.
---
Somewhere, Luca watched through security footage from the motel's old backroom, eyes locked on her frozen figure.
She thought she was hiding.
She thought she could disappear.
He let her believe that.
For one night.
Then he reminded her — distance means nothing when he already owns the air she breathes.