Ooh, now we're heating things up 🔥
Let's thread romance into t
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 and whiskey. It felt like a secret pocket of the city, untouched by time.
"This is yours?" I asked.
"Something like that," he said, tossing his jacket on the couch.
I walked slowly to the window, looking out at the Chicago skyline. The city lights blurred with my tired eyes. I felt hollow and full at the same time.
Zane brought me a glass of water and sat beside me on the 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."
He turned his face toward mine. We were close. Too close.
"You'll learn I'm not like other people, Tracy."
I looked up at him, and for the first time, I didn't see the scar. I saw a man with walls just as high as mine. A man who'd probably been broken once too.
"Then show me," I said softly.
His hand brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
"You've got that look in your eyes," he said, voice low. "Like you've been burned before... but you're still not afraid of fire."
My breath caught.
"I'm not," I whispered. "Not anymore."
The air between us was different now. Slower. Hotter.
He leaned in, just enough for me to feel it—his warmth, his breath, his hesitation.
And I let him.
His lips brushed mine like a secret he was too afraid to say out loud.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate.
It was a moment suspended in time—like the whole city had paused to watch two broken people find something real in each other.
When we finally pulled apart, I didn't move.
Neither did he.
"You kissed me," I whispered.
"No," Zane said, his voice barely a breath. "You kissed me."
And for the first time in forever, I didn't want to run.