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“Huh,” the older man mutters, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Did you know him?” I inquire, alarm bells ringing louder in my head. There’s no way they are just traveling through. The air thickens with tension, and an unsettling sense of foreboding settles in the pit of my stomach.
“Yeah,” the older man says, his voice dripping with a sinister edge. “Went to, uh, high school with him. Talked to him a few months back, and he told me he was working in a diner with his girl. That you?”
My blood turns to ice.
“I don’t know,” I answer slowly, choosing my words cautiously. “Girl, as in lover? Or…”
“His kid,” the old man presses, his eyes boring into mine.
“Oh, Sal wasn’t my father.” I gulp down a lungful of air, the weight of the situation sinking in.
“You don’t say,” the younger man sneers, his sharp cheekbones too familiar.
My heart rate spikes, and I can feel the walls closing in.
“No, my father died a few years ago.” I force the words out, trying to maintain a façade of composure. “He was a scientist.”
“Get the fuck out.” The older man leans back in the booth, throwing an arm over the seat. His suit jacket flutters open, revealing the gun strapped to his chest.
Definitely not travelers.
Swallowing bile, I keep my smile on my face, unaware of how fake it is. “Yeah, he was a scientist working on amputee parts. I guess you could call him an engineer.”
“And your mother?” the other man asks, his tone dripping with menace. “Did she die in the accident as well?”
Their questions cut deep, slicing through my carefully crafted façade, but I can’t let them see how rattled I am.
“She also passed away in the same accident as my dad.”
That’s when it hits me. I tilt my head as the pieces of this unsettling puzzle fall into place, revealing a horrifying picture.
I didn’t sayaccidentfirst. He did.
I nod slowly, my mind racing as I grasp for composure. “If there’s anything else I can get you?”
“No, no. We are good.” The older man gives me a smile that feels more like a threat.
I back away and turn around, my heart pounding. It takes everything in me not to bolt from the room. I glance at Tatum, who’s busy taking an order at a nearby table. She doesn’t notice the turmoil I’m in, nor does Vito, who’s engrossed in his own tasks.
Every fiber of my being screams at me to run, to seek safety, but duty tugs at me like an anchor, pulling me back. The bell jingles again, a stark reminder of where I am.
Turning to the newcomers, I manage a forced smile. “I’ll be right with you. Just grab two menus and pick a seat.” I retreat into the back and dash into the bathroom. My hands tremble as I turn the water on cold, splashing my face repeatedly as I struggle to regain control of my breathing.
I know I can’t hide in here. I have to get back to work.
Gripping the sink, I glare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are the same shade of blue as his. “Damn it,” I mutter, frustration boiling within me. I slap the sink before grabbing a paper towel to dry my face.
As I enter the dining room, my eyes dart to the booth.
They are gone.
Relief washes over me, but it’s fleeting, eclipsed by the harrowing certainty that this isn’t the end. I steel myself for what lies ahead, knowing I can’t escape the web tightening around me. The darkness is closing in, and I’m trapped in the center.
Thirty-Four
“You don’t knowwho they are?” Matty paces behind the couch for the hundredth time, his agitation like a brewing storm.
