POV: Rosalind
I met Theo in an underground parking garage, arriving separately and leaving our cars far apart.
Level 3. Section C. Minimal cameras. The kind of space where sound echoed wrong and people moved quickly without making eye contact. I parked at the far end, walked past empty spaces, and found Theo leaning against a concrete pillar near the emergency stairwell.
When he saw me, he moved immediately.
Pulled me into a kiss before I could speak—harder than usual, more urgent, the kind of contact that said I'm here and this is real and we don't have much time all at once. His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, holding me against him while the parking garage's fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
Then he stopped. Pulled back. Held my face between his hands and looked at me closely. Not romantic. Clinical. Checking for something.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No. Why would I be—"
"Because you came back. To Daniel. After I told you to stay unreachable." His eyes scanned my face. "That means something changed. Something urgent enough to override safety protocols."
"He texted me. Said he's driving alone tomorrow."
Theo's jaw tightened. He released my face. Stepped back. Ran his hand through his hair in the first uncontrolled gesture I'd seen from him in weeks.
"Fuck," he said quietly.
"You told me car meetings mean negotiations failed."
"They do. But I didn't think he'd actually agree to one. I thought—" He stopped. "Doesn't matter what I thought. What matters is he's committed to a mobile meeting, which means containment has completely failed."
"Why is a car worse?"
"Because cars eliminate all the advantages negotiation requires." Theo moved to lean against the pillar. "In a building, you have exits. Witnesses. The ability to walk away if terms aren't acceptable. In a car, you're contained. Trapped with whoever's driving and whoever's in the back seat. No witnesses except participants. No exits except compliance or violence."
"So they're trapping him."
"They're forcing a conclusion. One way or another, that meeting ends with Daniel either agreeing to their terms or becoming a problem they handle through other means." His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "And Daniel's walking into it voluntarily because he thinks showing up alone protects Luca."
"Doesn't it?"
"Short term, maybe. But long term?" Theo shook his head. "If Daniel doesn't come back from that meeting, Luca becomes the next target anyway. They'll approach him with news about his father's disappearance. Offer help. Protection. Access to information. And before he understands what's happening, he's as complicit as Daniel was twenty years ago."
My chest tightened. "So what does Daniel do?"
"He doesn't go. He lets me handle it." Theo looked at me. "But he won't. Because men like Daniel believe they can negotiate their way out of anything if they just show up and demonstrate good faith. They don't understand that some situations aren't about negotiation anymore. They're about elimination."
"You keep saying that. Elimination. What does that mean?"
"It means making someone stop being a problem. Permanently. Either through compliance so complete they're no longer a threat, or through methods that ensure they can't threaten anyone ever again."
The words settled over me like ice water. "You think they might kill him."
"I think it's on the table. As an option. If Daniel refuses to cooperate after getting in the car." Theo's eyes held mine. "That's why I told you car meetings mean negotiations failed. Because once you're in a mobile space with people who've decided you're a liability, the only question is whether you walk away or whether they carry you."
I felt sick. "We have to stop him."
"We can't. He's made his decision. And trying to interfere will just redirect their attention to you. To Luca. To everyone Daniel's trying to protect by showing up alone."
"So we just... let him go?"
"We let him make his own choices. Even if those choices are stupid. Even if they're going to get him killed." Theo moved closer. "This is the hardest part of loving someone, Rosalind. Accepting that you don't control their decisions. That your fear for them doesn't give you authority over their autonomy."
"That's not love. That's helplessness."
"It's both. And it's real. And it's what you're facing right now." His hand found mine. Squeezed once. "You can't save Daniel from himself. You can only survive what happens when he fails."
"What if he doesn't fail? What if he negotiates something that actually works?"
Theo was quiet for a long moment. Then: "If Daniel survives the meeting, it will be because someone else intervenes. Not because Daniel wins. His strategy is already compromised. His position is already weak. He's walking into a car with people who've spent weeks demonstrating they can reach everyone he cares about. That's not a negotiation. That's a surrender disguised as cooperation."
"Someone else," I repeated slowly. "You mean you."
Theo didn't answer. Just looked at me with those dark, serious eyes that had told me he'd killed before and would do it again if circumstances required.
"Are you planning to intervene?" I asked.
"I'm planning contingencies. What I actually do depends on how things develop." He released my hand. "But you need to stay unreachable for forty-eight hours. Starting now. No contact with Daniel. No contact with Luca. No patterns anyone can track. You go to one of the safe addresses and you stay there until I tell you it's clear."
"Theo—"
"Forty-eight hours, Rosalind. That's the window. Either Daniel comes home safe, or he doesn't. Either way, you need to be somewhere they can't find you while the situation resolves."
"And you?"
"I'll be where I need to be." He stepped back. Started moving toward his car. "Turn off your regular phone after you leave here. Use the burner only. I'll contact you when it's safe."
"Wait—"
But he was already walking away. No goodbye kiss. No reassurance. Just his back disappearing between parked cars while I stood there alone in the concrete space with fluorescent lights buzzing and the understanding that tomorrow, everything would either resolve or explode.
And I wouldn't know which until forty-eight hours had passed.