Chapter 8: The HideOuT

It had been four days since Leon and I fled from Michael, who was hunting me, and the unease in my stomach hadn’t eased. I hated this life. I hated running. I hated not being able to protect the people I loved. Most of all, I hated Julia Millard—the identity I couldn’t escape. The more I let her out, the less I remembered who I truly was.

“What do you mean you can’t get me a room? My parents own that hotel!” Leon’s frustrated voice cut through my thoughts. We’d been crashing at the shack since we left, and it was hardly suitable for living. He paced back and forth, every step sharp with impatience. “Okay, how about this—I call them, tell them they need a new hotel representative, or you corroborate and give me what I want… Oh, look! A room’s available after all. Thank you for your cooperation.” He clicked his phone and slammed it on the table, and I flinched, still cleaning my weapon.

He turned toward me, head low, a deep breath escaping. “I’m sorry…”

I froze. Apologies weren’t his usual language. “It’s okay,” I said cautiously.

His head snapped up, eyes piercing me in the dim light. “Don’t do that, Julia. Don’t act like you’re okay with how I’ve been.”

“I’m not,” I admitted. “I just… know you have a reason.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes closed for a brief second. “You know why I risked everything to find you?”

I paused, cleaning my blade. “Yes. To destroy the organization.”

He shook his head and moved closer, lowering his voice. “That’s not the only reason. No… I knew, even before we met, that this was supposed to happen.”

I blinked. “What was?”

“Us… being sired, Julia.”

I froze. Sired? A myth. A ritual binding two assassins’ energies so they could feel each other’s every emotion, inseparable across miles. Permanent. Dangerous. Insanity waiting to happen if one fell.

“No,” I stepped back. “No, I won’t be sired to you, Leon.”

He stepped forward. I backed away.

“That ritual… it isn’t right. People shouldn’t be forced to die for each other. I’m not putting us in that situation,” I said, arms crossed.

Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “Julia, mi tormenta, I wasn’t talking about the ritual. Once the organization is gone, it won’t matter. I said it because… I already feel connected to you.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

He stepped closer. Hands on my waist, pulling me against him. “What am I going to do with you?”

I shrugged, resting on his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“Whenever you think too much, you scrunch your eyebrows and go quiet.” His observation unnerved me.

“Leon?”

“Yes?”

“If you wanted to kiss me… you could’ve.” I smiled, smug.

He laughed. “And if I didn’t?”

I tried to pull away, but he gripped me tighter and pressed his lips to mine. Swift, unexpected, and electric. I almost melted into the world he created in that single moment—until a clear throat pulled me back.

Leila stood there, smirking. “Oh, don’t let me stop you two lovebirds. I just knew it was a matter of time.”

Leon muttered a comment, saving both of us from embarrassment, and the conversation shifted to plans and cover stories. I may have withheld information of why Michael was coming around. But the implication was clear. I watched Leila interact with him, then envied the ease of love and camaraderie she shared with Daniel on the phone.