When It All Came Crashing

CHAPTER TWELVE: When the Silence Starts to Lie

"Just stay behind me."

He moved toward the door slowly, peering through the peephole before unlocking it—and cracking it open, cautiously.

His shoulders eased a little.

Then he opened it wider.

"Luca?"

Cleo blinked.

"Wait—Luca?"

Luca Preston stood on the doorstep, in his usual dark jeans and worn leather jacket, a hand shoved into his pocket and the other holding a cardboard to-go tray with two iced coffees and a brown paper bag.

"Hey." He looked a little awkward. A little nervous. "I know this is... random. But I didn't hear back from you about the photography gig, and I sort of guessed where Roman might have dragged you."

Roman stepped aside slowly, giving Cleo a glance like is this guy psychic?

Luca scratched the back of his neck and held out the tray. "Peace offering? Also, there's a cinnamon scroll in the bag that I may or may not have bought just because I remembered you were obsessed with them in high school."

Cleo couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her mouth.

Roman crossed his arms, still watching Luca like he wasn't sure if he was about to kiss Cleo or stab someone.

"You're lucky you're charming," Cleo said, stepping forward and taking the tray. "And that you remembered my coffee order."

Luca grinned. "That's me. Useless in most scenarios but surprisingly great with pastries and memories of high school crushes."

Roman's eyebrow twitched.

Cleo elbowed him gently and turned back to Luca. "So, what's the real reason you're here?"

Luca's grin faded a little. His eyes darted between them.

"Actually... something weird came up. I didn't want to say it over the phone."

Roman's whole posture shifted.

Cleo's smile dropped.

"Weird how?" she asked.

Luca reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and scrolled to something.

Then handed it over to Roman.

"This was sent to my work email last night. From an untraceable address. No name. No subject line. Just... this."

Roman looked.

His expression went dark instantly.

Cleo stepped closer, peering over his arm.

It was a photo.

Of her.

Standing in the middle of the street.

From behind.

Alone.

At night.

The caption beneath the image simply read:

So many people watching her... and yet she still doesn't see.

Moments Later

The silence in the room was immediate. Heavy.

Cleo's eyes locked on the photo. Her breath caught, sharp in her chest.