Lila's POV

The restaurant buzzes with the soft murmur of late-night diners, silverware clinking against plates, the gentle hiss of the espresso machine. I sit with my back straight against the burgundy booth, staring at the untouched caesar salad in front of me while my heart hammers against my ribs.

Two booths behind me, I can feel his presence like a cold weight against my spine.

"The string is about to break," I murmur, my voice barely audible ...