The narrow alley was dark, the hum of the city's life fading into the background as Anya approached the old warehouse. She had been here before, a place where the world of secrets and shadows met. The air smelled of damp wood and rusted metal, an odd comfort in the chaos that surrounded her life. No one was supposed to know she was coming. No one except the people who watched from the shadows, and now, it seemed, the very man who would be tasked with watching her.
She stood in front of the hidden entrance, a steel door barely visible against the brick wall. A faint click echoed as the lock turned, and the door creaked open to reveal a dimly lit hallway leading down into the depths of the building. Anya stepped inside, her heart quickening. This wasn't a simple briefing, not a casual meet-up. This was the place where deals were made, information traded, and people disappeared.
As she walked deeper into the shadows, the heavy scent of cigarette smoke and stale air clung to the walls. She paused near a corner, where she could feel the eyes of the place on her. She wasn't alone, not really. She never was.
At the far end of the hallway, a door swung open, revealing a small, underground room. The walls were bare, save for a few dim lights that flickered overhead. A single table stood in the center, flanked by two chairs, and sitting in one of them was Alek.
He didn't look like someone who belonged in this kind of place. His appearance was clean, his posture calm, and his demeanor soft, almost unnervingly so. He rose from his seat as she entered, his expression unreadable but not unkind.
"Anya Blackwood," he said, his voice smooth but carrying a certain weight. He didn't greet her with the usual formalities or pretenses. He just spoke her name—her real name—like it held some secret between them.
Anya froze for a moment, caught off guard by the familiarity of it. She'd gone to great lengths to keep her true identity hidden, to remain an enigma even to her closest allies. But here, in this cold, underground room, Alek had shattered that illusion with a single word.
"How do you know that name?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with suspicion. She took a step forward, her gaze narrowing on him.
Alek's eyes softened as he tilted his head slightly, studying her with a look that wasn't quite pity but held something close to understanding. "It's my job to know things," he said, his tone almost apologetic. "I was briefed about you. The real you. I understand why you'd want to keep it hidden, but… I'm not here to make things harder for you."
Anya couldn't help but feel a pang of unease. He spoke with the calm certainty of someone who knew more than they should, someone who could unravel every layer of her carefully crafted persona with ease. But there was something disarming about him, something that made her hesitate before pulling away her defenses completely.
He gestured to the chair opposite him. "Please, sit down. I'm not here to interrogate you, Anya. I'm here because they're watching. They're watching both of us now, and we have to be careful."
Reluctantly, she lowered herself into the chair, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. She studied Alek's face, looking for any sign of deception, but all she found was that quiet understanding again, something that almost made her trust him.
"I'm sure this isn't how you imagined your mission going," Alek continued, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back slightly. "You thought I'd come in here, give you a hard time, tell you to be more careful. But that's not my style. I'm here to keep an eye on you, yes, but I'll do it without making you feel like you're under constant scrutiny."
Anya narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so different from what I expected?"
Alek smiled faintly, his gaze never wavering from hers. "I think you'll find I'm not so different from you, Anya. We're both here for the same reason—survival. But that doesn't mean I'm going to make your life harder than it already is."
His words caught her off guard. Anya had spent so much time trying to keep herself separate, trying to maintain the distance between her and anyone who could potentially get too close. But Alek wasn't pushing her away. He was inviting her into a space she hadn't expected to be allowed in—a space of understanding, of quiet solidarity.
"Then what do you want from me?" Anya asked, her voice low and cautious.
"I don't want anything from you, Anya," Alek replied softly. "I'm not your enemy. I'm not here to trap you or judge you. I'm just here to help you stay alive."
For the first time in what felt like ages, Anya didn't feel like a weapon or a pawn. She didn't feel like someone who had to hide her true identity to avoid being exposed. Alek's presence, though unexpected, was a comfort, and that in itself unsettled her.
"You have to be careful," Alek added, his voice turning more serious. "The stakes are higher now. Our superiors aren't pleased with the way things have been going. Your actions—helping Damian, getting involved the way you have—they won't go unnoticed."
Anya's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected that. It wasn't a reprimand, but it was a warning, and it carried weight. The tension in the air thickened.
"I know," she said, her voice quieter now. "I'm doing what I think is right. But I can't afford to be careless."
Alek's gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked almost empathetic. "I understand. But you're not alone in this. You won't be. I'll be here, watching your back, even if you don't need me to."
As the silence stretched between them, Anya realized something. Alek wasn't just a shadow following her every move. He was a protector, and though she hadn't asked for this kind of protection, it was clear she needed it.