Emily swallowed hard.
“No one told me,” she replied.
Adrien Moretti continued staring at her.
The diner suddenly felt too small.
Too quiet.
Too dangerous.
Outside, rain hammered the windows.
Inside, every sound seemed louder.
The clink of silverware.
The hum of the refrigerator.
The ticking clock above the counter.
Adrien folded the receipt once.
Then again.
Carefully.
As if it were something valuable.
“Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Emily hesitated.
One of the men seated beside him shifted slightly.
Not threatening.
Just enough to remind her who she was talking to.
She pointed toward the window.
“A man came in through the side door.”
Adrien listened without blinking.
“He looked at your table. Called someone. Said, ‘Yeah, he’s here. Corner booth. Four total. Twenty minutes.’ Then he left.”
Silence.
The three men beside Adrien exchanged brief looks.
No panic.
No surprise.
Only calculation.
Adrien slowly reached into his jacket and checked his watch.
Eleven fifty-three.
Seventeen minutes.
“Interesting,” he said quietly.
Emily wished she had never written the note.
Wished she had ignored everything.
But it was too late now.
Adrien stood.
The entire diner seemed to stop breathing.
“Gentlemen,” he said to his companions. “Finish your meals.”
One of them frowned.
“That’s it?”
Adrien’s eyes drifted toward the rain-soaked street.
“No.”
A faint smile appeared.
“The people outside think they’re hunting us.”
His gaze returned to the receipt in his hand.
“They have no idea they’re the ones being hunted.”
A chill ran down Emily’s spine.
Because for the first time all night…
Adrien Moretti looked genuinely interested.
And that was far more terrifying than anger.
He reached into his wallet and placed several hundred-dollar bills on the table.
Far more than the cost of dinner.
Emily immediately shook her head.
“I can’t take that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“I know.”
His expression softened for the briefest moment.
“That’s why I’m worried.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“Worried?”
Adrien glanced toward the front door.
“Because anyone watching me tonight will have seen you speak to me.”
The realization hit her instantly.
Her blood turned cold.
The men outside.
The caller.
The people waiting in the rain.
If they failed to reach Adrien…
they would start asking questions.
And she was the only witness.
Adrien slipped the folded receipt into his pocket.
“What’s your name?”
“Emily.”
“Emily what?”
She hesitated.
“Rivers.”
For the first time all evening, Adrien’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Recognition.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Rivers?”
Emily’s heart skipped.
“How do you know my name?”
Adrien didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he stared at her as if a forgotten memory had suddenly come back to life.
Then he quietly asked:
“Was your brother’s name Daniel Rivers?”
Emily froze.
The coffee pot nearly slipped from her fingers.
Because Daniel Rivers had died three years ago.
And almost nobody outside her family should have known his name.
Yet somehow…
Adrien Moretti did.
Outside, thunder rolled across Brooklyn.
And at that exact moment, a black SUV pulled up across the street.
The men waiting in the rain straightened.
One reached inside his jacket.
Another looked directly toward the diner.
And Emily realized the nightmare wasn’t beginning.
It had already found her.
