Updated Feb 18, 2026 • ~6 min read
ARCHER
She knows. I don’t know how, but she knows.
The grocery store trip was a mistake. I should have said no. Should have maintained distance. But she gave me that smile and I folded like cheap cards.
And now she’s googling. I can see her laptop screen from my window. FBI. Witness protection. Domenico family. She’s putting it together.
I call Tobias.
“We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Willa suspects something. She’s researching.”
“How much does she know?”
“Enough. She found the news article about my death.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You need to move. I’ll arrange transfer—”
“No.”
“Archer—”
“Marco and Vincent are out. Malcolm is asking questions. If I leave now, she’s exposed.”
“We can send another agent.”
“She already recognizes me. If a different stranger shows up, she’ll know something’s wrong. At least this way I can watch her up close.”
Silence.
“Tobias—”
“Fine. But if this goes sideways, it’s on you.”
“Understood.”
I hang up. Look back at her window. She’s staring at her laptop. Then she looks up. Directly at my window.
Fuck.
She waves. Actually waves. Like she knows I’ve been watching her.
I don’t wave back. Close the blinds. This is getting out of control.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number. I don’t answer unknown numbers. But this one feels… off. I answer.
“Yeah?”
“Agent Saint. Long time.”
That voice. I’d recognize it anywhere. Malcolm Domenico.
“I’m dead. You have the wrong number.”
“Do I? Because I have very good intel that says otherwise.”
“Your intel is wrong.”
“Is it? Then I guess I don’t need to worry about that pretty English teacher in Oregon. What was her name? Willa?”
My blood turns to ice.
“Touch her and I’ll—”
“There you are. I knew you weren’t dead.”
He’s laughing. Fucking laughing.
“What do you want, Malcolm?”
“What my father wanted. Justice.”
“Your father ran a trafficking ring. He got what he deserved.”
“He got a bullet in the head. And you’re the one who put it there.”
“Actually, that was the FBI sniper. I just provided the intel.”
“Semantics. You took him from me. So I’m going to take from you.”
“I don’t have anything you can take.”
“Don’t you? Sweet Willa. The girl you saved. The girl you thought about for three years. The girl you’re living next door to right now.”
He knows where I am. He knows about Willa. He’s been watching us.
“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this. She’s the reason I found you. And she’s the reason you’re going to suffer.”
“Malcolm—”
“Tell her I said hi.”
He hangs up.
Fuck. FUCK.
I grab my keys. My gun. Cross the hallway. Knock on her door. Hard.
She opens it. Smiling.
“Aaron! Hi! I was just—”
“Pack a bag. Now.”
Her smile drops.
“What?”
“You’re in danger. We need to go. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with—”
I show her my gun. Her eyes widen.
“I’m not going to hurt you. But someone else might. And I need you to trust me for the next sixty seconds and pack a fucking bag.”
She stares at me. Then she moves. Grabs a backpack. Throws in clothes. Laptop. Phone charger.
“What’s happening?”
“I’ll explain in the car.”
“Are you really—”
“Yes. I’m him. I’m your savior from three years ago. My real name is Archer Saint. I’m a former FBI agent in witness protection. And the son of the mob boss I took down just called me and threatened you. So we need to leave. Right now.”
She freezes. Stares at me.
“Say something.”
“I fucking knew it.”
Despite everything, I almost smile.
“Come on.”
We leave. Take my car. I drive fast but not reckless. Keep checking mirrors. No tail. Yet.
“Where are we going?”
“Safe house. FBI maintains several in the region.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was on the phone?”
“Malcolm Domenico. Son of the mob boss who ran the trafficking ring.”
“The one who tried to have me kidnapped.”
“Yes.”
“And he knows where I live.”
“Yes.”
“Because of you.”
That hurts. But it’s true.
“Yes.”
“So this is your fault.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re going to fix it.”
“I’m going to try.”
She’s quiet for a long moment.
“For the record, I knew Aaron Stone wasn’t real.”
“How?”
“Google. Your background is too thin. Your social media is too perfect. You don’t exist before two years ago.”
“That’s good detective work.”
“I’ve had practice. Spent three years trying to find you.”
“Why?”
She looks at me. Really looks.
“Because I wanted to say thank you. Because I wanted to know if you were real. Because I never stopped thinking about you.”
My heart does something dangerous. Something I can’t afford.
“Willa—”
“Don’t. Whatever you’re going to say. Don’t. Not yet. First, keep me alive. Then we’ll talk about the rest.”
Fair enough.
We drive in silence. I take back roads. Avoid highways. Watch for tails. Nothing.
Maybe Malcolm was bluffing. Maybe he doesn’t actually know where we are. Maybe—
Gunshots. From behind us. A black SUV. Coming fast.
“Get down!”
Willa ducks. I accelerate.
More gunshots. Back window shatters. Willa screams.
I take a hard turn. The SUV follows.
This is bad. This is very bad.
I reach for my phone. Call Tobias.
“We’re blown. Black SUV. Armed. Need backup.”
“Location?”
I tell him.
“Ten minutes out.”
“We might not have ten minutes.”
I take another turn. Residential street. Bad idea. Civilians. But I need to lose them.
I see an alley. Take it. Too fast. Too tight. We clip a dumpster. But we make it.
The SUV doesn’t follow. Too big.
I keep driving. Turn. Turn. Turn. Until I’m sure we lost them.
Then I pull into a parking garage. Second level. Kill the engine.
Silence. Except for our breathing.
“You okay?”
Willa nods. She’s shaking.
“You saved me again.”
“That’s my job.”
“Is it? Or is it something else?”
I look at her. Auburn hair. Hazel eyes. Terrified but brave.
“It’s something else.”
And then I kiss her.
Reader Reactions