Daniel should've stayed a ghost.
But now his name was alive in her chest again—like a bruise someone kept pressing.
She sat alone in the training room, phone in her lap, heart thudding against her ribs. The message hadn't come with a second text. Just those words:
You look different now. But I still remember.
⸻
Leon hadn't pressed for more.
Not yet.
But Ayla knew he would. And maybe he deserved the truth.
Daniel had been part of her old world. Not the innocent parts. Not school or books or wide-eyed dreams.
He'd been the first boy to teach her that love could be manipulation—soft words wrapped in control. The kind of man who only smiled when you bled for him.
He never hit her.
Not once.
But his absence was always a weapon. His silence, punishment. And when she finally walked away, she swore she'd never let herself be that girl again.
⸻
She called her brother.
It rang twice before his voice cracked through the speaker. "Ayla?"
Just hearing him almost broke her.
"Did anyone contact you recently? Anyone strange? Someone named Daniel?"
"No. Why?" His voice sharpened. "Are you okay?"
She hesitated. "I'm safe. Just… be careful, okay? Stay out of the city for a while."
"You're scaring me."
"I'll explain later."
⸻
Leon was waiting for her when she stepped out of the training room. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
He didn't speak.
Just looked.
And Ayla, for once, didn't hide.
"Daniel was someone I escaped from. Years ago," she said. "I thought he was gone. I made sure of it."
Leon nodded slowly. "Then we'll make sure again."
There was no fire in his tone this time. Just steel.