Episode Seven
1218 Words
Episode Seven: No More Hiding
The pounding on the door echoed through Arielle’s apartment like a warning shot.
Malik stood between her and the entrance, body tense, jaw tight, every instinct screaming that this moment this exact second was the one he’d been running from for years. Marcus didn’t rush things. He never had. The knocking was deliberate, confident. A man who believed the door would open because eventually, it always did.
“Malik,” Marcus called again, voice smooth, almost amused. “You really gonna make me stand out here?”
Arielle’s heart hammered in her chest. She tightened her grip on the memory card, its tiny weight suddenly enormous. Proof. Leverage. Danger.
“Go to the bedroom,” Malik whispered. “Lock the door.”
“No,” Arielle whispered back. “We don’t split up.”
Another knock harder this time.
“You’ve got thirty seconds,” Marcus said through the door. “Then I start getting creative.”
Malik closed his eyes briefly. He knew that tone. Marcus didn’t bluff.
He reached for the door.
Arielle grabbed his wrist. “If you open that, everything changes.”
“It already has,” Malik said quietly.
He opened the door.
Marcus stood there like he owned the hallway dark jacket, calm eyes, smile sharp enough to cut. Another man lingered a few steps behind him, face half-hidden, scanning the floor like he was counting exits.
Marcus’s gaze flicked past Malik, landing on Arielle.
“There you are,” he said pleasantly. “Been wanting to talk.”
“This isn’t happening,” Arielle said, voice steady despite the fear crawling up her spine.
Marcus chuckled. “Oh, it already did.”
Malik stepped forward. “You said you wanted me. You’ve got me. Leave her out of it.”
Marcus raised his hands mockingly. “You keep saying that like I didn’t already meet her.”
He stepped inside without waiting for permission.
The apartment felt smaller instantly.
“Nice place,” Marcus said, glancing at the photographs on the wall. “You’ve got talent.”
Arielle said nothing.
Marcus stopped in front of one image a shadowed street corner, light breaking through clouds. He studied it longer than the rest.
“Funny thing about pictures,” he said. “They freeze moments. But moments don’t tell the whole story.”
“They tell enough,” Arielle replied.
Marcus turned to her slowly. “That depends on who’s looking.”
Malik’s pulse thudded in his ears. “Say what you came to say.”
Marcus smiled. “Straight to business. I missed that about you.”
He glanced toward the window. “You left your car out front, Malik. Sloppy. Makes people curious.”
Arielle stiffened. “You followed him.”
“Of course I did,” Marcus said lightly. “He’s bad at letting go.”
The second man shifted his weight.
“I don’t have what you want,” Malik said.
Marcus sighed. “You always say that. And you’re always wrong.”
He looked back at Arielle. “You’ve got something that belongs to me.”
Her fingers tightened around the memory card in her pocket.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Marcus stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne clean, expensive, wrong for this place.
“You take pictures,” he said softly. “You see things. And I don’t like being seen.”
Malik moved instantly, stepping between them. “Back up.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You’re protective. That’s new.”
“She’s not part of this,” Malik repeated.
Marcus’s smile faded just a little. “She made herself part of it when she walked into that warehouse.”
The word warehouse dropped like a weight.
Arielle met Malik’s eyes. There was no hiding now.
“I want the card,” Marcus continued. “You give it to me, we all walk away. Simple.”
“And if we don’t?” Arielle asked.
Marcus’s gaze hardened. “Then this gets complicated.”
Silence filled the room, thick and dangerous.
Malik felt the countdown ticking louder.
“No,” he said.
Marcus tilted his head. “No?”
“No,” Malik repeated. “I’m done letting you decide how this ends.”
Marcus laughed—short, sharp. “You think this is a movie? There’s no redemption arc here, Malik.”
“Maybe not,” Malik said. “But there’s an ending.”
Arielle stepped forward, heart racing. “You don’t scare me,” she said to Marcus. “You scare people who need silence to survive.”
Marcus studied her, eyes narrowing. “Careful.”
“Or what?” she shot back. “You’ll prove my point?”
For the first time, something like uncertainty flickered across Marcus’s face.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Not close. But closer than before.
Marcus glanced toward the sound, then back at Malik. “You always did have terrible timing.”
He took a step back, motioning to the man behind him. “We’ll continue this later.”
“No,” Arielle said suddenly.
Both men turned.
She pulled the memory card from her pocket and held it up.
“This goes public,” she said, voice steady, “if anything happens to either of us.”
Marcus stared at it, jaw tightening.
“You won’t,” he said.
“I already did,” she replied. “There’s a copy.”
That was a lie.
But Marcus didn’t know that.
He studied her carefully now, recalculating. “You’re bluffing.”
“Try me.”
The sirens grew louder.
Marcus exhaled slowly, then smiled cold and controlled. “You’re smarter than you look.”
He stepped toward the door. “Enjoy your borrowed time.”
Before leaving, he turned back to Malik. “You made this worse.”
Malik met his gaze. “No. I made it honest.”
Marcus laughed under his breath and disappeared into the hallway.
The door shut.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Arielle’s knees nearly gave out. Malik caught her before she fell.
“You okay?” he asked, voice rough.
She nodded, breath shaky. “I think so.”
They stood there for a long moment, holding on like the ground might shift again if they let go.
“You lied,” Malik said quietly.
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “So did you.”
He smiled faintly despite everything.
“I don’t want to live like this,” she said softly. “Looking over my shoulder. Waiting.”
“I know,” Malik replied.
She searched his face. “Then choose something else.”
The weight of that choice settled heavy on his chest.
“I can’t promise safety,” he said. “Or peace.”
“I’m not asking for that,” she said. “I’m asking for truth. And presence. And the chance to decide.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”
She exhaled, tension releasing just a bit.
Outside, the city continued on unaware, uncaring.
But inside that small apartment, something shifted.
Borrowed time hadn’t ended.
It had transformed.
And for the first time, Malik wasn’t running from the clock.
He was standing still letting love catch up to him.
- Writer
