The wind had settled into a quiet hum, brushing against the snow-covered rooftops as Damian walked beside Anya. His steps were deliberate, slower than usual, his presence an unspoken weight beside her. She could feel his gaze flicking toward her every few moments, as if trying to piece her together like a puzzle missing too many pieces.
They had left the camp minutes ago, moving through the dimly lit streets of the village, the path too familiar to Anya now. She kept her composure, her face a careful mask of indifference. This wasn't an interrogation—not yet—but it felt like one. And she knew Damian Graves didn't do anything without a reason.
"You always end up here," he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, unreadable. "The café."
Anya glanced at him, feigning amusement. "And you always notice."
Damian didn't react. He simply kept walking, his eyes scanning the street ahead. "I notice a lot of things."
She smirked but didn't push. She didn't need to. He was already suspicious—that much was clear—but he hadn't figured out why. Not yet.
As they approached the small café, the warm glow from within cast long shadows on the snowy street. It was quiet this late at night, save for a few patrons lingering inside. Anya could already smell the faint aroma of coffee and baked bread, the scent mixing with the cold in a strangely comforting way.
Damian stopped just outside, turning toward her. "You can keep playing your little game, but don't drag me into it again."
Anya tilted her head, her expression still unreadable. "Oh? I thought you enjoyed the attention."
His jaw tightened slightly. "I don't care what you're up to, Petrova. But don't mistake my patience for ignorance."
A challenge. A warning.
Anya met his gaze, steady and unwavering. "Noted."
He held her stare for a moment longer before exhaling sharply, taking a step back. "I've got work to do."
She didn't ask what kind. She knew he wouldn't tell her even if she did. Instead, she nodded, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure blending into the night.
But as she stepped inside the café, she knew one thing for certain—Damian Graves wasn't done watching her. And neither was she.