Tracy's pov (point of view)
I turned.
But no one was there.
Still, the sound of footsteps echoed behind me—just distant enough to feel like paranoia but close enough to make my heart want to jump straight out of my chest. I walked faster, then stopped again, whirling around like some amateur detective hoping to catch her stalker red-handed.
Nothing.
Just a lonely sidewalk and a broken streetlight buzzing like it owed the city rent.
Calm down, Tracy, I told myself. You're just overthinking. Grocery shopping doesn't usually end in murder.
But I didn't believe myself.
I'd only stepped out to pick up a few things from a small grocery store down the block. Just snacks. Water. Maybe chocolate. Definitely chocolate. Something sweet to drown out the storm in my head.
But now, every part of me was on edge.
The footsteps started again.
Okay, that's not in my head.
I picked up my pace. My hands wrapped around my keys. The pointy one between my fingers, like a mini blade, just like those self-defense videos on TikTok said.
I took another step and then stopped sharply, spinning around—
Too late.
A hand slapped over my mouth.
I panicked instantly, thrashing, but the man—whoever he was—was trained. This wasn't his first rodeo. His grip was firm, precise, and terrifying.
Still, he clearly didn't know who he was messing with.
Because this girl? I fight back.
I slammed my heel backward, right between his legs. He groaned in surprise and pain, staggering a bit.
Good. That's what you get for being dramatic in dark alleys.
I grabbed his wrist, twisted, and spun, freeing myself with a breathless curse. My adrenaline was on overdrive.
Finally facing him, I could see he was wearing a black ski mask.
Of course. Because it's not like I needed more nightmare fuel.
"Dude," I muttered. "You could at least be original."
He didn't reply. Just lunged forward and slapped me across the cheek so hard I heard the echo. I stumbled back, clutching my face.
"You jerk!" I shouted.
I wasn't giving up.
He raised his hand again. I ducked, caught his wrist, and elbowed his thigh.
"You know," I grunted, "I was just trying to buy chocolate!"
He grunted in pain but kept coming. I leapt onto his back—yes, like some deranged raccoon—and grabbed his hair to pull back.
Only... it came off in my hand.
IT WAS A WIG.
"You're BALD?" I gasped.
The man thrashed wildly and tossed me to the ground. I landed hard, scraping my elbow.
He was pissed now—furious, bald, and bruised.
He lunged again. I rolled away and kicked him straight in the gut. He collapsed onto his knees, but the bastard was still reaching for something.
Then I saw it.
The gun.
He pulled it from his jacket with a shaky hand, but his eyes were wild. "Comply," he growled. "Or die right here."
I stared at the barrel pointed at me and muttered, "I'd rather die than go with a bald-headed budget assassin."
His finger twitched.
And that's when I saw him.
A blur in black.
Like a shadow gliding out from the alley, silent as the wind and twice as sharp.
Zane.
He moved so fast the guy didn't even have time to flinch.
Zane grabbed the attacker's gun arm and twisted it until the crack echoed across the alley like fireworks. The gun fell. Zane kicked it halfway down the street.
Then, calm as anything, he looked at the man and said, "Nice wig."
Before the man could respond, Zane punched him across the jaw.
The man stumbled back. "Who the hell—"
Zane spun, elbowed him in the chest, and slammed him into a wall.
"You mess with her," Zane said, voice low and deadly, "you answer to me."
The guy laughed through blood. "You think this ends with me?"
Zane didn't flinch. "I know it doesn't. That's why I'm starting with you."
Then—without hesitation—Zane reached up and ripped off the mask.
And we both froze.
I gasped.
Zane blinked.
I stared into the face of someone I thought I'd never see again.
"Brian?!" I shouted.
It was him. April's boyfriend. The smug, half-dressed guy I saw lounging on the couch just days ago.
The guy who looked too familiar.
"Of course," I muttered. "Of course it's you. I knew something about you screamed, 'Hi, I'm secretly a psycho.'"
Brian's eye was swelling. "You have no idea what she's involved in," he growled.
Zane stared at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle without the edges. "Why?"
Brian laughed bitterly. "She's not who you think she is."
"Oh, please," I cut in, standing up now, still sore but very done. "I'm a girl who wanted chocolate. Now I'm fighting bald ex-boyfriends with guns in back alleys."
Zane gave me a look. "Stay back."
Brian smirked. "You think she's safe with you? You think you can protect her from what's coming?"
Zane didn't respond with words.
He punched Brian again. Hard. The guy dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Silence.
I stood there breathing heavily, still trying to process everything.
"So..." I finally said, brushing hair from my face, "April really knows how to pick them, huh?"
Zane walked over and offered his hand. "You okay?"
I took it, pulling myself up. "Yeah. Except for my face. And my pride. And my now irrational fear of wigs."
He actually smiled.
Just a small one. But it was there.
I stared at him. "How did you even find me?"
He shrugged. "You're not that hard to follow when I care."
I froze.
"Wait. So you were the one following me?"
"No," he said. "But I wasn't far. I knew someone else was. That's why I showed up."
"Convenient," I muttered. "And a little creepy."
He looked down at Brian's unconscious body. "We'll need to move him."
"To where? The local Dumpster?"
"Somewhere he can't talk. Yet."
I stared at Zane. "You're not going to kill him, are you?"
Zane didn't answer immediately. "No. Not yet."
"But you thought about it."
"I think about a lot of things."
That didn't reassure me. But somehow, in the midst of blood and bruises and bald attackers, I still felt safer with Zane than I ever did anywhere else.
He looked at me again.
"You're shaking."
"No," I said stubbornly.
"You're shaking."
He stepped closer, removed his coat, and wrapped it around me.
The smell of him—leather, spice, danger—wrapped around my senses.
"You're insane," I whispered.
He smiled again. "You attract insane."
I sighed.
Somehow, I didn't even want to argue.