The Contact
Aaliyah
Aaliyah woke to the smell of something faintly metallic in the air. The room was dim, the soft glow of daylight creeping through the cracks in the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. For a moment, she felt disoriented, her body sluggish and her mind struggling to catch up. But then the events of the past few days came rushing back.
The wedding. The escape. The safehouse.
She sat up slowly, her muscles aching from the awkward position she’d slept in on the couch. The oversized T-shirt Cruz had given her was bunched around her waist, and the sweatpants hung low on her hips, tied as tight as they could go. They were comfortable, but the unfamiliar fit only highlighted how out of place she felt in this new life.
Her eyes scanned the room, landing on Cruz, who was crouched near the window, her back to Aaliyah. She was fully dressed again, her dark hair pulled back neatly, her movements precise as she packed up what looked like surveillance equipment into a compact bag. The sight of Cruz, so focused and composed, reminded Aaliyah of how precarious their situation was.
Aaliyah cleared her throat, her voice still thick with sleep. “What’s going on?”
Cruz turned slightly, her sharp eyes flicking toward Aaliyah before returning to her task. “We’re leaving soon. Pack light.”
“Leaving?” Aaliyah swung her legs over the side of the couch, her bare feet brushing the cool floor. “Where are we going?”
Cruz finished zipping up the bag and stood, her posture straight and unyielding. “We’ve got a meeting tonight. My contact is delivering the IDs.”
The weight of the words settled over Aaliyah like a heavy blanket. IDs. New names, new lives. The reality of what she had stepped into was sinking in, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.
“Is it safe?” Aaliyah asked, her voice quieter now.
Cruz’s jaw tightened slightly, but her tone remained steady. “Safer than staying here. But it’s never completely safe.”
Aaliyah swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of the T-shirt. “What’s the plan?”
“We leave in an hour,” Cruz said, glancing at her watch. “The meeting spot is a few hours out. I’ll scope the area first, make sure it’s clear.”
Aaliyah nodded, though her stomach churned at the thought of stepping out of the relative security of the safehouse. She had no idea what to expect, but she trusted Cruz—trusted her competence, her instincts, her ability to protect them both.
“I can help,” Aaliyah said suddenly, the words surprising even herself.
Cruz raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “Help how?”
“I don’t know.” Aaliyah stood, brushing her hair back from her face. “But I can’t just sit here and let you do everything. Tell me what to do.”
Cruz studied her for a long moment, her gaze piercing. Aaliyah felt like she was being assessed, like Cruz was weighing whether she was capable of contributing or just another liability. Finally, Cruz sighed softly and motioned toward the small pile of supplies near the door.
“Get your stuff ready,” Cruz said. “Don’t pack anything you can’t carry. And make sure you’ve got water.”
Aaliyah nodded, moving to the supplies and sifting through the items Cruz had set aside. There wasn’t much—a few bottles of water, some energy bars, basic first-aid supplies. She packed them carefully into a small bag, trying to focus on the task rather than the gnawing anxiety in her chest.
As she worked, she couldn’t help but glance at Cruz, who was now checking her weapon with practiced ease. The sight of her, so steady and unshakable, brought a strange mix of comfort and unease. Aaliyah couldn’t imagine what it was like to live like this—always on edge, always prepared for the worst.
But Cruz had chosen this life. Aaliyah hadn’t.
The thought made her pause, her hands stilling over the zipper of her bag. She looked down at the clothes she wore, the sweatpants and T-shirt that hung loose on her frame. They weren’t hers, just like this life wasn’t hers. But it was all she had now.
“You okay?” Cruz’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Aaliyah looked up, meeting Cruz’s gaze. There was no judgment in her expression, only quiet observation. Aaliyah nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… processing.”
Cruz’s lips twitched faintly, almost imperceptibly. “You’ll get used to it.”
Aaliyah wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. The weight was light, but it felt heavier than it should have, a reminder of everything she was carrying—not just physically, but emotionally.
Cruz moved to the door, her movements smooth and deliberate as she checked the locks and peered through the small gap in the curtains. “Stay close to me when we leave. Don’t wander, don’t linger. We move fast and stay quiet.”
Aaliyah nodded again, her throat tightening as she absorbed the instructions. She wasn’t used to being told what to do—at least, not in a way that felt like survival depended on it. But Cruz’s tone left no room for argument, and Aaliyah found herself oddly comforted by the structure of it.
As Cruz turned back to her, the faintest hint of a smile ghosted across her lips. “You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “Just stick with me.”
Aaliyah exhaled slowly, her chest loosening slightly. “I will.”
Cruz
The soft gray light of dawn crept through the curtains, tugging Cruz out of a restless haze. She stretched slightly, her back protesting the hard floor where she had spent the night. Her weapon rested on her lap, her hand brushing its grip instinctively as her gaze swept the room.
Aaliyah stirred on the couch, still wrapped in the oversized clothes Cruz had given her. The girl’s features were soft in sleep, but Cruz knew better than to think she was at peace. No one could be after what she’d been through.
Cruz leaned against the wall, rubbing the stiffness from her neck as her thoughts drifted to the contact they were meeting later that day. Marco. She trusted his skills, his connections—but trust, in this context, was relative. Marco’s loyalty wasn’t to her; it was to whoever had the deepest pockets. And the Amrohi family had pockets that ran deeper than most.
Cruz’s jaw tightened as she thought about Aaliyah’s father. Men like him didn’t just let go. He would have people combing the city, paying off anyone who could give him a lead. Marco could very well be one of those people.
She closed her eyes briefly, letting out a controlled breath. If he’s been approached, we’ll know soon enough.
A rustling sound pulled her attention back to the present. Aaliyah was awake now, sitting up on the couch with an awkward yawn. Her green eyes flicked toward Cruz, and Cruz straightened instinctively, her focus sharpening.
“Morning,” Cruz said, her voice neutral. She rose to her feet, pushing aside the discomfort in her legs. “Get ready. We’re leaving soon.”
“Leaving?” Aaliyah asked, her voice groggy as she rubbed her eyes. “Where?”
Cruz pulled a bag from beneath the couch and started checking its contents—extra ammo, a basic first-aid kit, a burner phone. “We’ve got a meeting later. My contact is delivering the IDs.”
Aaliyah blinked, the words sinking in slowly. “IDs. Like, new identities?”
“That’s the idea,” Cruz said, zipping the bag closed. Her tone was casual, but her mind was anything but. IDs were only the first step. They still had to figure out where to go and how to get there without leaving a trail. The thought of it made her shoulders tighten.
Aaliyah swung her legs over the side of the couch, her bare feet brushing the floor. “Do you trust this guy?” she asked hesitantly.
Cruz hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, “I trust him to deliver. Beyond that, it doesn’t matter.”
She could see the concern flicker across Aaliyah’s face, but Cruz didn’t elaborate. Explaining Marco’s motivations would only stir up more anxiety, and they didn’t have time for that. Aaliyah was already grappling with enough.
Cruz moved to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to peer outside. The street was quiet, no signs of movement. For now, the safehouse held. But the clock was ticking, and every minute they stayed here increased the risk.
“We need to move carefully,” Cruz said, her voice calm but firm. “Pack only what you need. Light and portable.”
Aaliyah nodded, her movements sluggish as she began to gather her things. Cruz watched her briefly, her sharp eyes noting the tension in Aaliyah’s posture. The girl was trying—Cruz would give her that—but the weight of their situation was written all over her face.
Aaliyah’s voice broke the silence. “What’s the plan after we get the IDs?”
Cruz turned back to her, folding her arms across her chest. “We’ll get out of Mallorca. Start fresh somewhere quieter.”
“Like where?”
Cruz paused. She had a vague idea—somewhere rural, maybe a small town where people didn’t ask too many questions. But the truth was, she hadn’t settled on a destination. The IDs would give them options, but where they went next depended on how cleanly the meeting went.
“Somewhere they won’t find us,” Cruz said finally. “That’s all that matters.”
Aaliyah nodded again, but her expression remained uncertain. Cruz felt a flicker of something—sympathy, maybe, or guilt. She wasn’t used to dealing with this kind of vulnerability. Missions were easier when they were impersonal, when her only job was to get in, complete the objective, and get out. But this wasn’t a mission anymore. Not really.
“Here,” Cruz said, tossing a bottle of water in Aaliyah’s direction. The girl caught it clumsily, blinking up at her in surprise. “Drink. You’ll need it.”
Aaliyah opened the bottle without a word, her movements hesitant but obedient. Cruz turned back to her preparations, her mind cycling through every contingency she could think of. The meeting was a risk—she knew that. But it was also their best shot at staying ahead of the people who wanted Aaliyah back.
As she double-checked her weapon, Cruz caught Aaliyah watching her out of the corner of her eye. There was something in the girl’s expression—curiosity, maybe even trust—that made Cruz’s chest tighten briefly. She forced herself to look away, focusing on the task at hand.
“We leave in twenty,” Cruz said, her voice clipped. “Be ready.”