Tracy – Episode 3:
I stared at the silver raven card in Zane's hand, my mind racing. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew one thing: nothing about this guy was random.
He watched me carefully, his expression unreadable.
"You've got enemies, Tracy. That message proves it. You can't go back to whatever life you had. Not now."
I sighed, the weight of everything pressing into my chest. "I never had a real life to begin with."
He nodded like he understood. "Come with me. Just for the night. Somewhere safe."
"Where?"
Zane didn't answer with words. He just offered me his hand.
I hesitated… then took it.
---
We ended up in a hidden loft above an old jazz bar downtown. Dim lighting. Velvet curtains. The scent of old books, coffee, and a hint of bourbon lingered in the air. It felt like a secret pocket of the city, untouched by time. A place that had seen stories, heartbreaks, and maybe even miracles.
"This is yours?" I asked, walking around slowly, my fingertips brushing the old piano keys in the corner.
"Something like that," he said, tossing his jacket on a dark leather couch. "I crash here when I need to disappear."
I ran my fingers along a shelf of dusty records. Miles Davis. Nina Simone. Frank Sinatra.
"This place is… something," I said, unsure if it was beautiful or haunted.
"Like me," he muttered with a half-smile.
I turned to him. "You always speak in riddles?"
"Only when the truth's too heavy to say out loud."
I walked slowly to the large window, looking out at the Chicago skyline. The city lights danced on the river below. It looked alive, but I felt… distant. Like I didn't belong to it anymore.
Zane returned with a glass of water and sat beside me on the wooden floor.
"You don't trust me yet," he said.
"I don't trust anyone," I whispered.
"But you're here."
"Only because I didn't have a better option."
His eyes searched mine, not with suspicion—but understanding.
"You know," he said, "when I first saw you on that rooftop, I thought: there's someone who's lost everything… but still refuses to fall apart."
I swallowed hard. "You don't know me."
"No," he said. "But I see you."
I looked at him then—not just at his face, but deeper. Past the scar. Past the cocky smirk. I saw the quiet in his eyes. The weight. The loneliness that matched my own.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked. "You don't owe me anything."
He paused. "Because once… someone helped me when I didn't deserve it. And I never got the chance to repay them."
Silence filled the space between us. But it wasn't cold. It was like a thread being slowly tied—one that neither of us expected.
"You've got that look in your eyes," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. "Like you've been burned before... but you're still not afraid of fire."
My breath caught.
"I'm not," I whispered. "Not anymore."
We were too close now. His hand lingered at my jaw. His breath kissed my skin. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.
He leaned in—slow, uncertain. Giving me time to pull away. I didn't.
When our lips met, it was gentle. Like a question. Like we were both asking, Is this okay? Can I have this?
And I answered with my kiss.
It deepened slowly, warm and quiet, like the kind of intimacy you don't expect in the middle of chaos. His hand slid around my waist. I curled into him without even thinking.
When we finally pulled apart, neither of us moved. Our foreheads touched.
"You kissed me," I whispered.
"No," Zane said, a smile tugging at his lips. "You kissed me."
And I didn't want to run anymore. Not from him. Not from this.
"Promise me," I said, my voice low, "that whatever happens next... you won't disappear."
He nodded once. "Not unless you do first."
For the first time in forever, I felt something like safety. Something like home.
But peace doesn't last in my world.
Because just then, the power cut out.
And the loft went completely dark.