Arnold didn't press. He simply waited.
The clink of cups and murmured conversations from the rest of the café faded behind the weight of his stillness. His gaze remained on her, not interrogating, but unwavering.
Lilith hesitated, fingers curling slightly around the edge of the table. Then she spoke.
"You're not the only one who found me recently."
A pause.
"Victor Sterling did too."
Arnold's expression didn't change, but the air between them shifted.
"Victor Sterling?" he repeated, slowly. "As in, Sterling Industries?"
Lilith nodded, keeping her voice quiet. "One of his men came by the shop. Ordered coffee. Said Victor 'sends his regards.'"
Arnold's hand tightened briefly around his cup. "Did he say anything else?"
"No. That was all. But he knew my name. Where I worked. Enough to make it clear that it wasn't a coincidence."
Arnold's brows drew slightly together, just for a second—barely noticeable. But his tone remained even.
"Did he threaten you?"
"Not in so many words." Her eyes dropped. "He didn't need to."
Arnold leaned back slightly, taking a measured sip of coffee. "And you didn't report it."
"I can't." She didn't meet his gaze. "There are... conditions. From my past. If I go to the police, it won't end well."
"What kind of conditions?" he asked, calm but direct.
Lilith hesitated. Her lips parted, then closed again. "Let's just say I signed things I shouldn't have. Things I can't undo."
Arnold didn't push. He studied her for a long moment, his face as unreadable as stone. Inside, though, gears were turning.
Victor Sterling had no time for random targets. He went after people who mattered or people who'd wronged him. The idea that Victor had tracked down a café owner in a quiet corner of the city didn't add up. Not without history. Not without motive.
Lilith was holding something back. That much was obvious.
But so was Arnold.
He'd come here for more than coffee and small talk. Lilith's disappearance after their first encounter had intrigued him, but that wasn't the only reason he'd tracked her down. He had a plan. A complicated, calculated one.
And she was part of it.
Still, now wasn't the time to tip his hand.
He leaned forward, voice level. "Whatever you think you signed, whatever fear is keeping you frozen, it's not working. Victor sent someone. That should tell you everything."
Lilith's jaw tensed. "You don't understand."
"No," he said smoothly, "but I'm good at putting puzzles together. And I don't like playing defense."
Her gaze snapped to his. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "you're not the only one with things at stake."
Lilith blinked. "Why are you here, Arnold?"
He didn't answer right away. Just reached into his coat and slid a sleek, black card across the table.
"My number. Direct line. If anything happens—or even if you just feel something's off—you call me."
She stared at the card but didn't pick it up yet.
"I'm serious," he added. "Don't wait until it's too late."
Lilith finally took the card, her fingers brushing his. She looked at him carefully. "Why do you care?"
Arnold's reply was slow, measured. "Let's just say... I don't like loose ends. And right now, you're becoming one."
He stood, finishing the last of his coffee. "We'll talk again soon."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out—composed, purposeful, unreadable.
Lilith remained seated, heart thudding. She stared down at the card in her hand, her reflection faint on the glossy surface.
He knew more than he let on.
And worse—he suspected her.
But that wasn't the part that scared her.
What scared her was how much she wanted him to come back.