Tracy pov – Episode 5:
I didn't wait for Zane to return.
The moment I saw that photo—my photo—in his notebook, something inside me snapped. Every instinct I had screamed: run. And this time, I listened.
I shoved the notebook back into his jacket, grabbed my bag, and slipped down the narrow fire escape before my courage failed me. The night was cold. The wind sharp. But nothing hurt more than the ache in my chest.
I didn't look back.
---
Forty minutes later, I stood outside a familiar blue house in the suburbs. The porch light was still on, casting a golden glow over the welcome mat that read, Come as you are.
I stood there for a full minute, debating.
Then I knocked.
The door opened fast. And there she was.
April.
My best friend since middle school. The one person who never judged me, even when the world did.
Her eyes widened in shock. "Tracy?"
The moment she said my name, I broke.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. My breath came in shallow gasps. She didn't say anything else—just reached for me and pulled me into the warmest hug I'd felt in years.
---
Ten minutes later, we were on her bed, both in oversized sweatshirts, my hair still wet from the shower she forced me to take.
She sat cross-legged across from me, hands curled around a mug of hot chocolate. "Okay," she said gently. "Tell me everything."
And I did.
I told her about Mira. About the awful things she said and did. About the night I ran. The rooftop. The loft. The kiss. The fear. The blackout. The photo.
April didn't interrupt. She just listened, like she always had.
When I was done, she set her mug down. "Okay. Let's start with the basics. Who is this Zane guy?"
I bit my lip.
"He's… complicated."
"No," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Let's get to the good stuff. Is he hot?"
I rolled my eyes, but my lips betrayed me with a smile.
"Ridiculously," I admitted. "Like... infuriatingly handsome."
"Go on…" she teased.
"He's tall. Maybe 6'2. Black hair—messy in a good way. Scar under his eye. Not one of those ugly ones. It's… kind of sexy, actually."
April grinned. "Mmm, danger-boy energy."
"His voice is low. Like he could read a grocery list and make it sound illegal. And his eyes…"
She leaned in. "What about his eyes?"
"Steel gray," I whispered. "Like a storm you want to stand in, even if it drowns you."
April let out a dramatic sigh. "You're in trouble."
"I was in trouble. That's why I ran."
"Yeah, but did you run from danger… or from what you were starting to feel?"
I went quiet.
Because deep down… I wasn't sure.
"He lied to me, April."
"Maybe. Or maybe he's just protecting you in a really screwed-up way."
"I don't know what to believe anymore."
April raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Forget the photo. Let's rewind. You kissed him?"
I blinked. "What?"
"You. Kissed. Him. Tracy, what happened to not trusting strangers?"
"It wasn't like that—"
"Girl," she cut in, shaking her head. "You kissed someone you just met. Handsome or not, what if he's a killer with cheekbones?"
I stared at my mug. "I don't know what came over me. It felt like… I could breathe again. Just for a second."
April exhaled. "Damn. This is serious."
I nodded, eyes distant. "Yeah. It is."
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Zane stood in the alley outside the jazz bar.
Rain drizzled lightly, soaking his jacket. His jaw was tight. His knuckles bloodied.
A man named Bushman lay groaning against the wall, his mouth dripping red. Big. Ruthless. An enforcer for someone higher.
Zane stared him down. "Where is she?"
Bushman spat. "Ran off, didn't she? Just like your sister did."
Zane's expression didn't change. But something in his eyes shifted. A flicker of pain.
"I won't ask again."
Bushman coughed. "You think you can protect her? They already know. She's on the list."
Zane stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar. "Then you better pray I find her before they do."
From a darkened corner, a low voice spoke into an earpiece.
"Target has gone off-grid. Zane's unstable. He's getting too close to her."
"Keep watching. The girl is the key. But if Zane remembers who he really is… we're screwed."
---
Back at April's house, I sat curled under her blanket, staring at the ceiling.
April yawned, then looked over. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "But something tells me… I haven't seen the last of him."
And in that moment, I wasn't sure if that terrified me—or thrilled me