Episode 21
Tracy's POV
The jolt of the car stopping pulled me from the shallow, restless sleep I'd slipped into. My forehead was pressed against the cool glass of the window, and when I shifted, my neck screamed in protest from the awkward angle.
For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was. The world outside was painted in a strange shade of gray—the kind that comes just before sunrise, when everything feels like it's holding its breath.
Then I remembered.
Zane.
The warehouse.
Jake.
I straightened slowly, the seatbelt cutting against my collarbone as I blinked away the fog of sleep. My heart already knew I should be afraid before my brain caught up.
Zane was sitting beside me, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other draped casually on the edge of the console. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but I knew better now. His stillness wasn't carelessness—it was the calm before a storm.
His head turned just enough that I caught the shadow of his profile in the dim light. His jaw was set, lips pressed into a thin line. He looked like a man bracing himself for war.
"We're here," he said, his voice low.
"Where is… here?" My throat was dry, the words scratchy.
"Where Jake wants me."
That name, that single syllable, woke me up faster than a bucket of cold water. Jake. The man who'd put the order out for me. The man Zane hated with a quiet, venomous intensity I hadn't seen in anyone before.
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the growing knot in my stomach.
From the front car, Phil's voice crackled over the radio. "Perimeter looks quiet, sir. Too quiet. Smells like a setup."
Zane's hand flexed on the wheel. "It's supposed to."
He finally turned his head toward me. His eyes cut through the dim light like blades. "Trace."
The sound of my nickname from him made my chest ache in ways I didn't want to admit.
"Stay close to me," he said firmly. "No matter what happens. No matter what you see or hear, don't wander."
I nodded before I realized I was nodding. My body obeyed him faster than my brain did, and that scared me almost as much as Jake.
The convoy rolled forward, engines humming like restless predators. The building loomed ahead, massive and silent, its steel doors streaked with rust, its windows nothing but broken teeth against the gray sky.
The cars stopped in a half-circle. Men began filing out, all dressed in black, their movements sharp and practiced. Guns slung at their sides, eyes scanning every shadow.
I hesitated before opening my door, but Zane was already there, pulling it open for me. He didn't say anything, didn't offer his hand, but the way he stood just close enough made me feel shielded.
The air outside was damp, thick with the smell of dew and iron. My sneakers crunched on gravel as I stepped out, pulling my jacket tighter around me. My ankle throbbed faintly, but fear had a way of dulling pain.
Zane's presence beside me was overwhelming, steady. His coat brushed mine as we walked toward the warehouse, and every nerve in my body felt aware of him.
The doors groaned when they were pushed open, metal screeching against metal.
Inside was worse.
The place was cavernous, ceilings disappearing into darkness, rafters creaking faintly in the wind. Every step echoed too loudly. My breath caught in my throat, my eyes darting to every shadow.
"It looks empty," I whispered.
"That's why it's dangerous," Zane replied, his tone even, like he was stating a fact of life.
I tried to match his steps, to walk with the same kind of fearlessness, but my body betrayed me. My pulse thundered in my ears, my palms damp.
Phil signaled to a few men, who spread out into the corners of the warehouse. Their flashlights sliced through the gloom, catching on crates, rusted barrels, and the broken skeletons of machinery long abandoned.
The silence was unbearable. Heavy. Pressing.
And then a voice broke it.
"Well, well. The prodigal brother finally shows his face."
My blood froze.
The voice was mocking, smooth, laced with a familiarity that wasn't mine but cut through Zane like a blade.
From the far end of the warehouse, a figure emerged. The shadows seemed to peel off him like smoke. He moved slowly, deliberately, each step echoing.
At first, he almost looked like Zane. Tall, confident, with that same sharp, commanding presence. But where Zane's calm was controlled, almost noble, this man's aura dripped chaos. His smirk looked carved into his face, eyes glinting with something cruel.
Jake.
I didn't need anyone to tell me—it was written in the air.
Even before he spoke again, I knew.
"Been a long time, Zane," Jake drawled, spreading his arms slightly, like he was welcoming us into his home. His gaze swept over the room, lingering on Zane's men with a kind of bored amusement. Then his eyes found me.
They lingered too long.
"And this," he said slowly, a grin pulling at his mouth, "must be her. She's prettier than I expected."
I flinched under his stare, heat crawling up my neck.
But before I could even step back, Zane moved.
In one swift motion, he was in front of me, his body blocking me from Jake's line of sight. His shoulders squared, muscles taut, every inch of him radiating danger.
"Say her name," Zane said, his voice razor-sharp, "and I'll put a bullet in your throat."
Jake's laughter echoed through the warehouse, bouncing off the steel walls. It wasn't warm or amused—it was sharp, cruel, like the sound of glass breaking.
"There he is," Jake said, eyes narrowing with a twisted fondness. "My big brother. Always dramatic. Always predictable."
My breath hitched.
Brother?
I looked between them, my mind spinning. Stepbrother, Zane had once said. But seeing them now—so similar, yet so opposite—made the truth real in a way that felt like a punch to the gut.
Zane didn't react to Jake's words. He stood still, stone-like, but I could feel the tension radiating off him. It seeped into the air around us, coiling tight, making my lungs ache.
My eyes flicked up at him, at the way his hand hovered near his gun but didn't move. His stance was perfect control—measured, dangerous, unreadable.
And then, for just a second, his hand brushed against mine.
Not intentional. Not obvious. Just enough. Enough to remind me he knew I was there, that I wasn't standing in this nightmare alone.
My heart raced. Not just with fear. With something else. Something I didn't want to name.
Jake tilted his head, studying Zane. "What's the matter? You usually don't hesitate to pull the trigger. Is it because she's watching?" His grin widened. "Don't want her to see what you really are?"
"Careful," Zane said softly, the warning in his tone colder than any shout.
Jake chuckled, dark and low. "I'd say the same to you. You're playing a dangerous game, brother. Bringing her here. Keeping her so close. Does she even know why?"
I stiffened. My stomach twisted.
But Zane didn't answer.
Instead, he shifted, just slightly, his body pressing a fraction closer to mine. His silence was louder than any denial.
Jake's smirk grew sharper. "That's what I thought."
The air between them was electric, thick with years of hatred I couldn't begin to untangle. But in that moment, I understood one thing with bone-deep certainty.
This wasn't just about me.
This was about them.
Two brothers. Two enemies. And I was caught in the middle.