Chapter 6
1601 Words
Hannah did not relax when the three men finally left.
She smiled. She wiped the bar. She rang tabs and joked about foam ratios and last-call regrets like the universe hadn’t just flirted with imploding in front of a room full of witnesses.
But her shoulders stayed tight, nerves pulled thin and vibrating.
The pressure under her skin hadn’t gone away.
It had just… settled.
Waiting.
The calm one paid first. The broad-shouldered one lingered long enough to tip well and give her a look that felt uncomfortably like sympathy. The quiet one with the water paused at the door, glanced back once, then nodded—acknowledgment, not goodbye.
They left separately.
The bell chimed three times.
The bar exhaled.
Conversation crept back in cautiously. Laughter followed in short, brittle bursts. Someone joked about bad wiring. Someone else ordered another drink like nothing had happened.
Hannah let it.
Routine was a life raft. She clung to it.
“Sorry about the earlier excitement,” she said brightly to a couple near the end of the bar. “We like to keep things interactive.”
A nervous laugh. It landed—but weaker than usual.
Great, she thought. Even my jokes don’t believe me anymore.
She moved down the bar, refilling drinks, collecting glasses, pretending her hands weren’t still buzzing faintly like static that refused to discharge.
Last call crept up.
“Alright folks,” she announced, voice steady through sheer willpower, “last call. Please decide who you are tonight before I do it for you.”
That one landed better. Familiar. Safe.
She was wiping down the counter when the bell chimed again.
Hannah looked up.
And felt her stomach drop.
Adrian stood in the doorway.
Alone.
No dramatic pause. No scan of the room. Just there, like he’d stepped into a space he already knew belonged to him.
The pressure under her skin shifted.
Not flared.
Focused.
She stared at him for a beat, then muttered, “Of course.”
Adrian took a seat at the bar—not the far-left stool this time. Closer. Casual. Normal.
That somehow made it worse.
She approached, crossing her arms. “We’re still open,” she said. “But if you’re here to add to my stress, I’m charging extra.”
“I’m not,” he replied.
“Shame,” Hannah said. “I’m really leaning into my ‘barely coping’ era.”
His gaze flicked over her face, assessing—not her body, not the bar.
Her.
“You’re strained,” he said.
“Wow,” she replied dryly. “Astounding observation.”
“You held it together,” he continued. “Barely.”
She blinked. “You weren’t here.”
“No,” he agreed.
That stopped her.
She studied him carefully. “Then how exactly do you know that?”
Adrian hesitated.
Just long enough.
Hannah’s mouth twisted. “Ah. That kind of knowing.”
She dragged a hand through her hair. “Okay. Let’s pretend I’m not spiraling for one second. The three guys earlier.”
Adrian’s eyes sharpened. “What about them?”
“They weren’t random,” she said. Not a question.
“No,” he admitted.
She let out a short laugh. “And then you show up. Right after.”
His silence confirmed it.
Hannah exhaled slowly. “So you’re connected.”
“Yes.”
“Cool,” she said. “Love being the meeting point.”
“They were curious,” Adrian said carefully.
“Everyone’s curious,” Hannah snapped.
A bottle rattled softly behind her.
Hannah winced. “See? That. That’s new.”
Adrian watched with curiosity.
“I don’t know how to turn it off,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that like it helps.”
“It’s not meant to help. It’s meant to be honest." He. paused for a brief moment before continuing. You’re reacting faster."
“Well,” she replied, “I’ve always been an overachiever.”
Before he could answer, the front door banged open.
“Hannah.”
Jessa strode in, phone already in hand, eyes sharp.
Hannah winced. “Please tell me you’re here for a drink.”
Jessa ignored her and glanced at Adrian. “Oh. It's you. Of course you're involved."
Hannah sighed. “Hi, Jess. Please don’t stab anyone.”
Jessa ignored her and held up her phone. “There are videos. Of your bar. And you.”
Hannah closed her eyes. “Of course there are.”
Adrian straightened subtly, tension flickering through him for the first time.
Jessa turned on him. “why are you here?”
“I was concerned.” he said evenly.
Jessa snorted. “Great. That makes two of us.”
Hannah stepped between them, palms up. “Okay. Everyone breathe. No fighting. I already broke enough things today.”
Jessa looked at her—really looked at her.
“…Are you okay?”
Hannah opened her mouth with a joke ready.
Nothing came out.
“…I’m managing,” she said instead.
The pressure stirred for a moment causing bubbles to form in a half empty beer glass on the bar.
Jessa noticed.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Hannah.”
“Yeah,” Hannah said quietly. “That’s been happening.”
Adrian’s gaze flicked between them, sharp and calculating. “How many?”
"How many what?" Hannah asked annoyed with Adrian's incessant need to speak in code.
"Videos." He replied, gesturing towards Jessa.
“Enough and the comments are getting weird.”
Hannah opened one eye. “Weird how?”
Jessa swallowed. “People asking if you’re ‘awake.’”
The pressure spiked—sharp and violent.
A bottle rattled hard on the shelf behind the bar.
Then another.
Hannah gasped and threw her hands up instinctively. “Nope. Nope. We are not doing that.”
Adrian was already on his feet.
“Hannah,” he said, voice low and urgent. “You need to listen to me.”
She laughed once, brittle and breathless. “You’re saying that like I’m not actively panicking.”
“You don’t have time for that, the situation has changed,” he said.
That wiped the humor right off her face.
Jessa looked between them. “What’s happening?”
Adrian’s eyes flicked to the front windows.
Then the door.
Then back to Hannah.
“They’re paying attention now,” he said.
“Who is they?” Hannah demanded, heart slamming against the walls of her chest .
“People who don’t ask permission,” he replied. “They take.”
The pressure surged again—harder this time.
The lights flickered violently.
Someone outside shouted.
A sharp crack split the air as the front window spiderwebbed outward, like something had struck it from the other side.
Jessa screamed.
Hannah froze.
Adrian grabbed Hannah’s wrist.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “Now.”
Hannah yanked back instinctively. “You don’t get to drag me out of my own bar.”
Another crack.
The glass bowed inward.
Adrian’s grip tightened just enough to ground her. “If you stay here, you will be hurt.”
That wasn’t fear in his voice.
It was certainty.
Jessa grabbed Hannah’s arm. “Hannah—”
Hannah shook her head wildly. “No. No, she’s coming with us.”
Adrian turned to Jessa sharply. “She can’t.”
“What?” Hannah snapped. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched. “If she comes, she’s in danger.”
“So am I!”
“Yes,” he said. “Which is why I can get you out.”
The pressure roared—wild now, unfocused.
A bottle exploded off the shelf, glass shattering across the floor.
Jessa cried out and stumbled back.
That did it.
Adrian stepped closer to Hannah, voice cutting through the chaos. “You are bleeding attention. If she stays near you, she becomes a target.”
Hannah’s chest heaved. “You’re saying that like this is my fault.”
“It’s not,” he said immediately. “But it is happening.”
The window shattered inward.
Glass rained across the bar.
Hannah screamed and ducked instinctively.
Adrian didn’t hesitate.
He pulled her toward the back exit.
“This is not a suggestion,” he said. “If you don’t come with me, they will take you.”
Jessa grabbed Hannah’s hand, fingers white-knuckled. “Hannah, don’t—”
Hannah looked at her best friend.
Really looked.
Jessa’s fear.
The broken glass.
The bar she loved, destroyed in seconds.
Her humor cracked completely.
“I’ll come back,” Hannah said hoarsely. “I swear.”
Jessa shook her head, tears streaking down her face. “You better.”
Adrian paused only once—long enough to meet Jessa’s eyes.
“Lock the door,” he said. “Call the police. Tell them it was a break-in.”
Jessa nodded shakily.
Then Adrian pulled Hannah through the back door.
Cold night air slammed into her lungs.
The pressure under her skin surged, furious and alive, reacting to fear and movement and separation all at once.
Hannah stumbled as Adrian dragged her into the alley.
“I didn’t even grab my bag,” she gasped.
“You won’t need it,” he said.
She laughed hysterically. “That’s not comforting.”
Behind them, sirens began to wail.
Hannah twisted, looking back at the bar—at Jessa standing in the doorway, small and shaking amid broken glass.
Guilt crushed her chest.
“I didn’t want this,” Hannah whispered.
“I know,” Adrian said.
- Writer
