Chapter Three — Stay Alive
804 Words
Anthony hadn’t slept.
Not really.
He had closed his eyes at some point, let the city’s distant hum blur into something softer—but rest never came. Every time silence settled, it filled with her. Her voice. Her presence. The way she had stood in his home like she belonged there.
Like she wasn’t afraid of anything he was.
The penthouse remained untouched. Perfect. Still.
Too still.
It irritated him.
Anthony stood by the glass wall, watching New York breathe beneath him. Lights stretched endlessly, cars threading through the streets, life moving forward as if nothing had changed.
But something had.
Inside his head, there was only one name.
Poppy.
He replayed the night again, dissecting every detail—the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. Not with fear. Not with admiration.
With awareness.
That was the part that stayed with him.
People feared him. Or they respected him.
She had done neither.
He picked up the note again, unfolding it slowly, even though he already knew every word.
Stay alive.
His jaw tightened slightly.
A warning.
A promise.
A challenge.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“No one walks into my world and disappears,” he murmured.
And yet… she had.
“Find her,” he said later that evening, his voice calm, controlled.
His men nodded immediately, already moving.
“I don’t care how.”
But Anthony already knew the truth.
They wouldn’t find her.
Poppy wasn’t someone you tracked.
She was someone who decided when to be seen.
The nightclub was chaos—loud, bright, relentless.
Music pounded through the walls, vibrating through bone and breath. Lights flashed in sharp bursts, catching fragments of faces and movement before swallowing them again. The air was thick with heat, laughter, distraction.
Normally, he thrived in it.
Tonight, it felt empty.
Anthony moved through the crowd untouched, present but distant, as if the noise couldn’t quite reach him. After midnight, he stepped outside, the cool air cutting clean through the haze.
His guards shifted around him instantly, subtle but precise. Eyes scanning. Hands ready.
Routine.
Predictable.
Safe.
Too safe.
Across the street, far above the noise, Poppy lay still.
Prone against the rooftop, rifle steady, breath slow and controlled. Through the scope, the world narrowed into clarity.
There he was.
Exactly where she expected him.
Tall. Composed. Untouchable.
Alive.
A small smile ghosted across her lips.
“Good,” she whispered.
For a moment, she simply watched him.
Not as a target.
Not as a mission.
But as something far more dangerous.
Then the pattern shifted.
A flicker of movement.
Wrong.
Her focus sharpened instantly. No hesitation. No doubt.
A man broke from the crowd.
Subtle.
But not enough.
Wrong posture.
Wrong timing.
Wrong intent.
Her finger adjusted slightly on the trigger, her breath steady.
“Amateur,” she murmured.
The man’s hand slipped beneath his jacket.
Too fast.
Too obvious.
Too late.
The shot rang out—sharp, precise, final.
The man collapsed instantly, the weapon barely clearing his jacket before he hit the ground.
For a split second, silence.
Then chaos.
Screams cut through the night. People scattered. Guards surged forward, weapons drawn.
Anthony turned at the sound, his gaze locking onto the falling body.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t react like the others.
He simply understood.
And then—
He heard her.
“Hey, handsome!”
The voice cut through everything.
Clear.
Familiar.
Unmistakable.
Anthony looked up.
She stood at the edge of the rooftop, framed against the night sky.
Dark hair loose, moving with the wind. Her coat shifted around her like a living shadow. The rifle rested casually against her shoulder, as if it weighed nothing.
As if danger itself answered to her.
“I told you to stay alive,” Poppy called, her voice light but edged. “You’re terrible at following instructions.”
For a heartbeat, the world held still.
No noise.
No movement.
Just them.
Anthony didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
He simply watched her.
Then she smiled—he could hear it even from there.
She lifted her hand, blowing him a kiss that felt more like a challenge than affection.
And just like that—
She stepped back.
Gone.
No hesitation.
No trace.
Anthony remained where he was as chaos unfolded around him.
Voices. Sirens. Movement.
None of it mattered.
Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
Dark.
Thrilled.
Alive.
“She’s watching,” he murmured.
And for the first time in his life, uncertainty didn’t bother him.
It excited him.
Hunter.
Prey.
The line had blurred.
And he wasn’t interested in fixing it.
His gaze lingered on the rooftop, now empty.
For now.
“Stay alive?” he echoed softly.
A quiet chuckle followed.
“I plan to.”
Because now—
He had a reason to.
- Writer
