The night refused to settle.
Even after the gunshots faded…
Even after the attacker lay unconscious on the cold ground…
Even after the distant engines disappeared into the darkness…
Nothing felt over.
If anything—
It felt like something had just begun.
Catherine stood a few steps away from Jack, her chest rising and falling unevenly.
Her hands were still trembling.
Her ears still ringing from the sound of the gunshots.
But that wasn't what shook her the most.
No.
It was him.
The way he moved.
The way he fought.
The way he knew.
That wasn't the Jack she married.
Jack turned toward her slowly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now.
Gentler.
Familiar again.
But Catherine didn't answer immediately.
She just stared at him.
Searching.
Measuring.
Questioning.
"Cathy?" he called again, stepping closer.
She stepped back.
Instinctively.
The movement hit him harder than any bullet could.
"…don't," she said quietly.
Jack froze.
Her voice—
It wasn't fear anymore.
It was something else.
Something deeper.
"Don't come closer," she repeated.
The distance between them grew again.
Not physical.
Emotional.
Jack swallowed.
"What is it?" he asked.
But deep down—
He already knew.
Catherine shook her head slowly, her eyes locked onto his.
"You fought like…" she paused, searching for the right word.
Then—
"…like someone trained to kill."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Jack didn't respond.
Because he couldn't.
Because he didn't have an answer.
"You knew where the shooter was before anyone else," she continued, her voice gaining strength. "You moved like you've done that before. You didn't panic. You didn't hesitate."
Her heart pounded harder with every word.
"Jack…" she whispered, her voice breaking now, "…my husband is a businessman."
A tear slid down her cheek.
"He negotiates deals… not fights attackers in the dark."
Jack ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in.
"I don't know how to explain it," he said.
"Then try!" she snapped.
The sudden sharpness in her voice shocked even herself.
But she didn't take it back.
She couldn't.
Not anymore.
"Because right now," she continued, her voice trembling, "I don't know who you are."
The words hit.
Hard.
Jack looked at her—
Really looked at her.
And for the first time—
He saw it clearly.
She wasn't just confused.
She was afraid of him.
"I'm still me," he said quietly.
But even as the words left his mouth—
They felt incomplete.
Catherine shook her head again.
"No," she whispered. "You're not."
Her gaze dropped briefly to his hands.
Strong.
Steady.
Hands that had just disarmed a man like it was nothing.
"You remember things you shouldn't forget," she said slowly.
"Like our life… our memories…"
Then her eyes lifted again.
Sharp.
Focused.
"But you also don't remember things you should know."
Jack tensed.
"Your trip," she said.
"Your meetings."
"Your present."
Silence.
"And now this…" she gestured toward the unconscious attacker. "You fight like someone else entirely."
Her voice softened slightly.
Not with comfort—
But with pain.
"So tell me," she said.
Her eyes filled with tears again.
"Who are you?"
The question hung between them.
Raw.
Dangerous.
Unavoidable.
Jack opened his mouth.
But nothing came out.
Because the truth was—
He didn't know.
Fragments flickered in his mind.
Movements.
Reflexes.
Instincts.
Things he couldn't explain.
Things that didn't match the life he remembered.
"I…" he started.
Then stopped.
His jaw tightened.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Catherine's breath caught.
That answer—
Was worse than any lie.
Behind them, murmurs began again.
Low.
Uneasy.
Fear creeping back into every voice.
"He admitted it…"
"He doesn't know…"
"This isn't right…"
Catherine stepped back again.
Further this time.
Like she needed distance to think.
To breathe.
To survive this moment.
"I need space," she said quietly.
Jack's chest tightened.
"Cathy—"
"I said I need space!" she repeated, her voice breaking.
Silence fell.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
Jack nodded slowly.
Pain flickering in his eyes.
"Okay," he said.
Just one word.
But it carried everything he couldn't say.
Catherine turned away.
Because if she looked at him any longer—
She might break.
As she walked back toward the others—
Her mind spiraled.
Her heart torn in two.
Because deep down—
She still felt it.
That connection.
That pull.
That love.
But now—
It came with fear.
And that made it dangerous.
Behind her—
Jack stood alone.
In the middle of the cemetery.
Surrounded by people—
Yet completely isolated.
And from the shadows—
Richard watched.
Again.
Always watching.
His eyes shifted from Catherine…
To Jack…
To the unconscious attacker.
Then—
Slowly—
He stepped back into the darkness.
Because whatever game he was playing—
Was far from over.