Page 69 of Seeking Shadows

“I met Sammy at a brothel a few years ago. She was rescued by Evermore. When I saw her again, it made me happy to know that some girlsdoget out.”

“Cecilia Ross has been giving the Cartel a lovely headache in that department,” Sammy says. “She’s recovering all the girls.”

“Ceci is a sweetheart,” Mia replies softly.

“Most people wouldn’t use that word for her. I heard she beheaded a man in seconds. That family reeks of violence, but Cecilia… she’s a hero to many. Including me.”

Mia smiles, but I know she doesn’t completely agree. She respects the Ross family in general, not just Cecilia—because of Seth.

They keep talking, and I lean against the wall, watching. Always watching.

Mia has this way of pulling people in, making them feelseen. I never knew how to do that. I never eventried.

We take a seat by the window, and she leans forward, the glow of the streetlights catching in her eyes.

“Now, tell me,” she grins. “Caramel waffles or strawberry?”

I sigh, grabbing the menu out of habit. “Whatever. You’re gonna end up eating off my plate anyway.”

Mia laughs, pushing the menu away like she’s already won the argument.

The diner hums with quiet conversation, the muffled sounds of the kitchen blending into the background. Everything feels normal—until it doesn’t.

“Speaking of which, yesterday the Yakuza boss’s wife was acting suspicious of us.”

I freeze. My fork hovers midair.

“The Yakuza boss’swife?” My voice drops lower than I expected.

“Hana, if I’m not mistaken.”

My stomach sinks. The noise around us fades. A cold chill creeps up my spine, but I keep my voice steady as I say—

“Mia… Hana died five years ago.”

She stills.

The kind of stillness that drags the air down with it.

Her eyes go wide. And then, just like that, the world behind them shatters.

I see it—the moment she realizes something’s wrong.

Her gaze darts away like it burns. Her breathing turns shallow, erratic.

I don’t say anything.

I just reach across the table, letting my fingers brush against hers.

A light touch. A quiet promise.

I’m here. Still me. Still yours.

She doesn’t pull away. But she doesn’t relax either.

“Who told you that?” she asks eventually, her voice paper-thin.

“No one had to,” I say softly. “It’s the truth.”

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