Red Flag

Allen stepped inside, his eyes scanning every corner of the room. When his gaze landed on Ethan, the air turned brittle. Ethan stood abruptly, eyes sharp as blades and a low growl vibrating in his chest. I pleaded with him silently, desperate for him to sit. Ethan hated strangers—especially those in uniform—but if he exposed himself now, we were dead. “Please,” I mouthed. Our eyes locked in a silent power struggle until, with a harsh exhale, Ethan slumped back onto the couch and looked away. I turned to Allen. He was taller, his expression unreadable and stoic, radiating an authority that made me feel like I was falling apart inside. He studied my face for a long moment before faking a cough and reaching into his pocket. “I believe this is yours.” My jaw dropped as he handed me my ID card. I couldn’t remember where I’d lost it. “A taxi driver ran into me,” Allen explained. “He wanted to return it to the owner. Fortunately, that’s you.” A deafening silence followed. Ethan grunted behind