Chapter Ten
807 Words
By the time Fiona and Zara reached the street outside the apartment building, the night air felt too thin to breathe. The world tilted around her—streetlights smearing into long streaks of gold, her heartbeat thundering in her ears like war drums.
“Fiona, slow down,” Zara urged, grabbing her arm.
But Fiona didn’t slow down. She *couldn’t.*
Her chest squeezed painfully, her vision flickering at the edges.
Her legs felt made of water.
“I—I don’t feel good,” she whispered, swallowing hard.
Then the pavement lurched.
Zara barely caught her before she pitched forward.
“Oh my God—Fiona! Hey! Stay with me!” Zara guided her to a bench under the flickering street lamp. “You’re white as a ghost. Sit. Breathe.”
Fiona’s hands shook violently as she pressed them against her knees.
“It’s everything—my mom, the marriage, him… the baby… Alistair Valerio—if he finds out—”
Zara cupped her cheeks. “Shh. One step at a time. You’re safe. Just breathe.”
But Fiona didn’t feel safe.
Because the world had suddenly gone quiet around them.
Too quiet.
That was when she noticed him.
---VINCE — A STRANGER WHO NOTICES TOO Much
Vince leaned against a motorcycle near the curb, helmet in hand, eyes shadowed beneath his cap. He looked like a man meant to blend into the background—but Fiona’s trembling state had caught his attention.
He pushed off the bike and approached with slow, cautious steps.
“You alright there?” His voice was low, rough, and strangely calm.
Zara stiffened, stepping slightly in front of Fiona. “We’re fine.”
Vince ignored her posturing. His eyes stayed on Fiona—sharp, observant.
A man used to reading danger. A man used to noticing weakness.
But his gaze softened just a fraction. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Fiona tried to speak, but the words tangled. “I just… need a minute.”
Vince studied her for another beat.
“You’re overheating,” he said quietly. “And your pulse is too fast.”
Zara blinked. “What are you, a doctor?”
“No,” Vince replied simply. “Just someone who knows when a storm’s about to hit.”
A shiver ran down Fiona’s spine.
There was something unsettling about him—something familiar in the dangerous awareness behind his eyes.
“Drink this,” Vince added, handing her a cold water bottle from his backpack.
Zara hesitated, but Fiona took it with shaking fingers.
She sipped—and finally, her lungs loosened enough to breathe.
“Thank you,” she murmured, voice small and uneven.
Vince nodded once, eyes narrowing slightly—as if filing away the details of her distress, her trembling, her pallor.
As if he already knew her life was about to collide with something dark.
Something violent.
Something Valerio.
While Fiona drank, she overheard Vince’s phone buzzing. He turned away slightly as he answered it—but not enough to hide the sharp edge of the conversation.
“Yes… I saw her.”
“…No, she wasn’t followed.”
“…She doesn’t know yet.”
*Pause.*
“Yes. Him.”
Fiona froze.
Zara looked at her sharply, equally alarmed.
Vince’s voice lowered even more.
“Tell Alistair Valerio I found the girl.”
The world stopped.
Fiona’s breath died in her throat.
Zara’s eyes widened to hellish proportions.
Vince listened again, nodding once.
“No, she didn’t see anything. She’s shaken. Overheating. Might faint.”
A pause.
“…Do I tell her he’s looking for her?”
Fiona’s heart dropped into her stomach.
Zara squeezed her arm, whispering, “Fiona… we need to go.”
Vince ended the call and turned back to them slowly—expression unreadable.
Zara immediately stepped forward. “Who the hell was that? Why are you mentioning Alistair Valerio?”
Vince didn’t answer the question.
Instead, he focused on Fiona.
“You should go home,” he said quietly. “Things are about to get… complicated.”
His eyes held something unsettling.
A warning.
A knowledge.
A threat wrapped in concern.
Fiona’s pulse skyrocketed.
“Why did you call him?” Fiona whispered, her voice barely audible.
Vince’s jaw tightened.
“Because he’s looking for you, Fiona Lewis.”
He paused.
“And he always finds what’s his.”
A chill ripped through her chest.
Vince stepped back, sliding his helmet on.
“One more thing,” he added before mounting the bike.
“Whatever you think you know about Alistair Valerio…”
He met her eyes one last time.
“You don’t.”
The motorcycle roared to life—and Vince vanished into the night.
Leaving Fiona trembling.
Leaving Zara panicking.
Leaving the echo of those words sinking into Fiona’s bones:
- Writer
