The phone's vibration jolted me from my thoughts. I lunged for it, nearly knocking over my cold coffee. Alex's name flashed on the screen, and relief flooded through me—until I answered.
"Michael." His voice was wrong, stretched thin and taut like a wire about to snap. It wasn't his usual academic tone.
"What happened?" I was already on my feet, grabbing my keys.
"Someone tampered with my laptop. Again. They didn't even try to hide it this time. They rearranged files and wiped the search history. When I powered it on, there was a message waiting for me."
My throat tightened. "What did it say?"
"'Time's running out.'" He exhaled shakily. "But that's not all."
"Tell me."
"I left the archives about an hour ago. A car followed me. It was a silver sedan with two men inside. I tried to lose them by cutting through the quad, but when I came out, they were waiting." His voice dropped lower. "One of them got out. He stood there, watching me. He didn't approach or say anything. Only stared until I ducked into a coffee shop."
My blood ran cold in my veins. It wasn't subtle surveillance anymore. It was the delivery of a threatening message.
"Where are you now?"
"Still at the coffee shop. Corner of Broadway and Pike."
"Stay there. Inside. Don't move. I'm coming to get you."
"Michael, I don't think—"
"This is active intimidation, Alex. They're escalating. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't leave the shop and stay where people can see you."
"Okay." He paused. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For dragging you deeper into this."
A lump rose in my throat. "You didn't drag me anywhere I wasn't already heading. Watch for me. I'll be there in minutes."
"I will. Just... hurry."
The line went dead. Reality sank in, and I found myself driven by a singular focus.
Get to Alex. Secure him. Protect him.
Nothing else mattered.
I burst into the parking garage, keys already in hand. My truck waited in the dim concrete cavern, exactly where I'd left it, but suddenly it looked exposed.
If they'd been watching Alex at the university, they could have followed him here before. They might know my vehicle.
I hesitated for half a second and then decided it didn't matter. Speed trumped stealth for the moment.
My focus narrowed to a laser point—the route to Alex and any threats that might lie along it. I calculated and discarded options with mechanical precision while my heart hammered against my ribs.
Every delay—every red light or pedestrian crossing—scraped against my nerves like sandpaper. I slammed my palm against the steering wheel as if my pounding might speed my progress.
Broadway and Pike finally appeared ahead. I double-parked outside the coffee shop, hazard lights flashing, not caring about the ticket I'd likely receive.
Through the glass storefront, I spotted him immediately—hunched over a small table in the corner, back to the wall, eyes constantly scanning the entrance. The professor was gone, replaced by someone who understood he was targeted prey.
Our eyes met through the window. I nodded once, and he carefully gathered his belongings, trying not to broadcast his urgency to the other patrons.
