No Safe Choice Part One

The café smelled faintly of burnt sugar and wet wool. Rain had driven most people inside, and the fogged windows blurred the street into a watercolor. Jess stirred her coffee though she had already drowned it in milk. The motion was mechanical — something to keep her hands steady.

She didn’t notice the shadow that fell across her table until someone slid into the seat opposite.

“Don’t you remember me?”

Her hand froze on the spoon. The voice was softer than she remembered, but the tilt of the man’s smile was the same — half-charming, half-dangerous.

She blinked. “David.”

He looked pleased, almost smug, as if memory itself were a kind of loyalty. “You haven’t changed,” he said.

Jess wanted to laugh. He couldn’t see the gray she hid at her temples, the scar above her ankle, the sleeplessness etched into her skin. Or maybe he could, and still thought she hadn’t changed, because the piece of her he’d known — the girl reckless enough to follow him into abandoned warehouses at midnight — was still lodged behind her eyes.

“What do you want?” she asked.

David leaned forward, raindrops sliding off his coat. “The same thing I always did. For you to come with me.”

It had been twelve years. The last time she’d seen him, police sirens had screamed through the night, and David had pulled her along the skeletal railway bridge, laughing like it was all a game. She had been terrified.

He had been exhilarated. And then he was gone — vanished into shadow before she realized she’d been left behind.

Now here he was, water dripping onto the floor, speaking as though no time had passed.

“Where have you been?” she asked, though the question tasted sour in her mouth.

David tilted his head, as if considering how much truth she deserved. “Moving. Running. Doing the kinds of things people don’t forgive. But I came back, Jess. For you.”

Her grip tightened on the coffee cup. A part of her — the foolish part — wanted to lean into the dangerous warmth of his words.

But there was something wrong. His eyes flicked to the window every few seconds. His shoulders were too tense, his smile too forced.

And then she noticed his hands.

Trembling. Not from cold — he was wound tight, adrenaline still pumping.

“You’re in trouble,” she said quietly.

David didn’t deny it. “Not if you come with me.”

Her pulse quickened. The storm outside roared against the glass, a steady drumming like footsteps in pursuit. For the first time, she realized he hadn’t simply chosen this café at random. He had chosen it because it was crowded, noisy, difficult for someone to watch them without being seen.

She leaned back, her chair scraping against the floor. “What did you do?”

David's smile thinned. “Something I can’t undo.”

He glanced toward the door. Jess followed his gaze just in time to see a man in a gray coat step inside, scanning the room with practiced precision.

David's voice dropped to a whisper.

“They’ll follow me. But if they think you know where I’m going—” His hand closed over hers, urgent, almost painful. “You have to decide. Right now. With me, or against me.”

The stranger in the gray coat caught her eye. He started moving toward their table.

Jess’ throat tightened. The life she had built — the quiet safety of it — suddenly seemed fragile as glass. And here was David again, the storm that could shatter it with one touch.

The man in the gray coat threaded through the crowd, not rushing, but purposeful. Jess felt David's grip tighten across the table.

“Don’t look at him,” David whispered.

Her pulse hammered. Don’t look? The warning only made her eyes want to dart back. She forced herself to stare at David instead. His smile had vanished. What stared back at her now was sharp, brittle — like glass about to crack.

“You dragged me into this,” she hissed under her breath.

“No,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear. “You were already in it. You just didn’t know.”

The words chilled her more than the rain outside. “What are you talking about?”

The gray coat paused at the counter, ordered something, then leaned casually against it. His eyes kept flicking across the room. He wasn’t here for coffee.

Jess swallowed hard. “You’re paranoid. He’s just—”

“He’s not just anything,” David cut in. “And neither am I.”

Something in his voice made her blood run cold. She wanted to demand the truth, but feared what it might be. Instead she asked, carefully- “What happens if I walk out of here without you?”

David's expression didn’t change, but his fingers drummed once, twice, against her hand before pulling away. “Then they’ll corner you. They’ll ask questions you can’t answer. And Jess—” He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “They’ll know if you’re lying.”

Her whole body went rigid. “You’re trying to scare me.”

“I don’t have to,” he said. “You’re already scared.”

At the counter, the man in the gray coat glanced at his watch, then straightened, scanning the tables again. This time, his gaze lingered on theirs.

Jess’ throat went dry. The spoon in her saucer rattled faintly from the tremor in her hand.

“Why me?” she asked, her voice breaking.

David's smile returned, but it was all wrong — stretched thin, shadowed by something darker. “Because you were the only person I ever trusted. And maybe,” he added, almost tenderly, “the only one they’ll believe.”

The man in the gray coat began walking toward them.

David didn’t move. He simply watched Jess, eyes burning with the same impossible intensity he’d carried twelve years ago, as though the choice were hers alone.

And maybe it was.

The man in the gray coat approached, weaving between chairs with the quiet confidence of someone who already owned the room. He stopped at their table.

“Jess Edelstein?” His voice was even, polite, but his gaze pinned her like a butterfly to a board.

She froze. He knew her name.

David's foot tapped once against hers under the table — a warning.

“Who’s asking?” she managed.

The man reached into his coat pocket slowly, deliberately, and placed a leather wallet on the table. He flipped it open just long enough for her to glimpse a badge. Real or not, she couldn’t tell. “Agent Boyink,” he said. “I’d like a word.”

Her mouth went dry. She glanced at David. His smile had vanished again; now he looked like a cornered animal.

Boyink's eyes flicked to him. “You shouldn’t be with him. You know that, don’t you?”

David's voice was low, steady. “Don’t listen. He’s twisting things.”

“Am I?” Boyink's tone sharpened, aimed squarely at Jess. “How long has it been since you’ve seen him? Twelve years? Thirteen? He walked away, didn’t he? And now he turns up out of nowhere, drags you into his mess. Doesn’t that tell you everything you need to know?”

Jess’ hands shook beneath the table. She clenched them into fists to hide it.

“He left because he had to,” David said, eyes locked on hers, not the agent. “They wanted me then, and they want me now. But you—” his voice cracked, just slightly — “you’re the only one who ever mattered.”

Her stomach twisted. He was pulling her back into his story, the way he always had.

“Jess,” Boyink said gently. “Do you have any idea what he’s done? The people he’s hurt? He’s not protecting you. He’s using you. He always was.”

David flinched as if struck. “Lies.”

The café noise faded, leaving only the drum of rain and her own heartbeat. Both men staring at her — one with cold authority, the other with desperate fire.

“Don’t you see?” Boyink pressed. “If you walk out with him, you won’t get another chance. You’ll be part of it.”

David leaned forward, voice like a blade.

“And if you walk with him, you’ll never see me again. They’ll bury me so deep I’ll disappear forever.”

Jess’ breath caught. She looked from one face to the other, her whole life teetering between them.

The agent’s hand hovered near his coat pocket. David's knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the table.

Both waiting. Both demanding. And both convinced they were the truth.

The café seemed to contract around them, the air thick with the smell of coffee and rain-soaked coats. Conversations continued at nearby tables, but to Jess it was all static — indistinct voices muffled by the roar of blood in her ears.

Boyink's hand hovered inches from his coat. A weapon? A phone? She didn’t know.

David's eyes blazed across from her, urgent, pleading.

“Jess,” David said, low and sharp.

“Choose. Now.”

Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream at both of them, demand they stop pulling her into their war. But the agent’s steady gaze said you’re already in this. And David's restless hands said you’ve always been in this.

She swallowed hard, her heart stuttering.

“Stand up,” Boyink said calmly, as if coaxing a frightened child. “Walk with me, and this ends tonight. No more running, no more lies. You’ll be safe.”

Safe. The word hit her like a weight. Safe meant routine, quiet, the small life she had built and convinced herself was enough.

But David leaned closer, voice shaking just enough to sound human. “If you walk with him, you’ll never know the truth. About me. About them. About what really happened that night.”

The night he vanished. The night she spent years trying to forget.

Something inside her twisted. The agent offered safety. David offered answers. Both carried danger.

Her chair scraped as she rose, knees trembling. The entire café seemed to tilt, every eye flicking toward her movement.

Boyink straightened, ready to guide her toward the door. David rose too, a hand half-extended.

Jess hesitated only a breath. Then—

She placed her hand firmly on—