SIENNA.
I stared out the window to look at Belinda's retracting back, her warm hug still lingered on my skin. I made sure she was safely inside the apartment before turning away from the window.
Zane sat beside me, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he drove us to the penthouse. The air between us was heavy with awkwardness, so thick I could slice a knife through it. My body ached to lean closer, but I clenched my fists instead. After tonight, maybe I could earn Zane's trust, but not at that moment.
Behind us, Jason's car trailed. Zane had insisted on this arrangement, him driving me while Jason followed. I shifted in my seat and stole a glance at Zane. I caught the flicker of his gaze in the rearview mirror, checking on Jason's car.
The radio crackled to life as Zane reached for the dial, his fingers brushing the controls with a casual grace that made my breath hitch. A country song spilled out. I turned my head, pretending to study the passing storefronts, but my pulse thrummed in my ears, betraying me. His fragrance filled the car, wrapping around me until I could barely think. I wanted to hate him for the way he made my body betray my mind, but hating Zane was like trying to hate a storm. It just was.
The country song faded, replaced by a talk show host's overly cheerful voice. "Good evening, folks! It's Tuesday, August 5, and we've got a great show lined up for you this evening..."
The date hit me like a fist to the chest on August 8th. My parents' death anniversary. The air in the car suddenly seemed to thin, making my lungs struggle to pull in a full breath. I pressed my hand to my chest as memories of the tragic night popped up in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the images away to no avail.
"Are you okay?" Zane asked. I didn't miss the concern in his voice.
I opened my eyes. "Yeah. Just... thinking."
Just then an idea sparked through my grief as we drove near a cathedral. There was a cathedral nearby. Like most cathedral buildings, they always have a back exit that could lead me out, away from Zane and Jason's watchful eyes. If I could get there, I could slip away to meet the Scarred-faced Man. Alone.
"I need to stop somewhere," I said, turning to Zane. "There's a cathedral nearby. St. Peters. Today's... It's the anniversary of my parents' deaths. I want to pray for them."
His eyes flicked to me, making my heart stutter, but I held his gaze, letting my lips quiver just enough to let out my unshed tears.
"Sienna... I am sorry about that." His voice softened, but there was an edge to it. "It's not safe out there. Can you do it at the house?"
"I need it to be at the cathedral, Zane. It's their anniversary" I insisted, leaning forward, letting my hand brush his arm. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I saw his jaw tighten. "Please, Zane. It's just a church. I'll be quick. Jason can come with me."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers flexing on the wheel. For a moment, I thought he could see through the flimsy excuse. But then he nodded. "Fine. But you stay close to Jason. No wandering off. Understand?"
I nodded. "Crystal, thank you."
Zane pulled into the parking lot, the gravel crunching under the tires, with Jason's headlights behind us. Zane cut the engine, then turned to me, his eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe well.
"Don't do anything stupid, Sienna," he said, "I'll be expecting you out here in twenty minutes."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and pushed the door open. I stepped out, making my way toward the cathedral's towering doors. Jason's heavy footsteps trailed me, but I kept my steps steady. I couldn't let him see the plan taking shape in my mind.
Inside the cathedral, the air was thick with the scent of wax and incense. I moved toward the front pew and knelt at one near the altar. I bowed my head, pretending to pray. My lips moved, forming silent words, but my mind was mapping the cathedral's layout. The ladies' room was to the left, down a narrow hallway lined with confessionals. Beyond it was a side exit that led to an alley. If I could get there without Jason noticing, I could make it to the meeting point.
I stole a glance over my shoulder. Jason stood near the entrance, his eyes scanning the pews. When his attention drifted, he turned to check the doors. I rose and walked toward the hallway.
I passed a confessional and the ladies' room was just ahead. I glanced back at Jason, who was still at the entrance, his back to me, checking his phone. I slipped into the ladies' room and swung the door shut behind me with a soft thud. I moved quickly as I pushed open the faucet while I pushed the window above the sink. I hoisted myself up.
The alley outside was dark. I landed softly, my heels sinking into the gravel, and froze, listening for footsteps and shouts. Nothing. Clearly, Jason hadn't noticed yet. I forced myself to move, sticking to the shadows as I hurried down the alley. The meeting point was the warehouse by the river. The Scarred-faced Man would be there, waiting.
The Scarred Face Man had been to come alone, or the deal was off. I couldn't risk Jason or Zane finding me. Not now, when I was so close.
֍
The cathedral's spires faded behind me as I turned a corner. My heels clicked too loudly against the pavement. The warehouse was three blocks away, if I could just get there without Jason or Zane catching up. The alley opened onto a lone street, and I slowed down as I approached the door to the warehouse. Its metal surface felt slick under my fingers. The hinges made a funny sound as I pushed it open, the sound echoing in the cavernous space inside. Dust hung thick in the air, catching the faint light of a single bulb swinging from the ceiling. I stepped inside let the door creak shut behind me.
The silence in the warehouse was broken only by the drip of a leak somewhere in the shadows. I moved deeper into the warehouse, my eyes darting to every corner for any movement.
A soft scrape broke the silence, like a boot scuffing against concrete. I stood, as my body tensed up. A figure emerged in the dim light. My breath caught with relief when I recognized him. He was here. The Scarred Face Man. He stepped closer like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Sienna," he said. "You came alone?"
I nodded, my throat tight. "Yes. Just like you said."
His lips twitched, and he tilted his head, studying me. "Good. You're smarter than I thought." He stepped closer, and I fought the urge to back away. I held my ground.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could form, the door behind him groaned open. My heart stopped. The Scarred Face Man's eyes narrowed, his hand dropping to his side, and I turned, dread pooling in my stomach.
A figure stepped into the light, his silhouette was a presence that filled the room.
Zane.
Fury erupted in my chest. He had followed me. Of course, he had. He had ruined everything. Everything I had risked was shattered in an instant.
"You traitor!" The Scarred Face Man's voice cut as He stepped back, his scar twisting as his face contorted with rage. "You brought him here? You think you can play me?" His hand moved, and I caught the glint of his gun. My stomach lurched, but I couldn't tear my eyes from Zane.
"I didn't..." I started, but the Scarred Face Man cut me off.
"You'll pay for this, Sienna. You'll feel our wrath. We don't forget." He backed toward the door, his eyes darting between me and Zane. "This isn't over." With a final glare, he turned and bolted, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared into the warehouse.
He was gone, my chance slipping through my fingers, and Zane stood there, silent, and that only fueled my anger. I spun on him, my fists flying before I could stop myself. They connected with his chest, hard and unyielding, the impact jarring my wrists. I hit him again and again.
"How could you?" I screamed, "You ruined everything! Everything!" My fists pounded against him. He didn't move or flinch. He just stood there, letting me rage.
"Why?" I whispered. "Why couldn't you just let me go?"
He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a sound cut through the silence. Zane's eyes snapped toward the noise, his hand moving to his side. Someone else was there with us.
