Chapter 2

AVIA

The neighbors were at it again.

The sound dragged me out of sleep slowly, like little fingers prying my eyelids open. The creaked rhythmically above my head, followed by a woman’s breathy moan that echoed straight through the thin plaster and into my skull. I groaned and rolled onto my stomach, shoving my face into the pillow hard enough to smother both the noise and my irritation.

It didn’t help.

The bed squeaked above me. A headboard knocked against the wall. Someone gasped a name that almost sounded like mine… or maybe I imagined that part, my half-asleep brain twisting then into something else.

I puffed out a sharp breath through my nose and turned my head toward the window, wool morning breeze brushed my cheek.

I froze, my brows pulling down into a frown.

The window was open.

It wasn’t cracked, or tilted the way I sometimes left it when the heat got unbearable. It was open open. Wide enough that the curtain fluttered, lifting and falling slowly.

My stomach tightened.

I stared at it for several seconds, waiting for the panic to hit me properly, but it didn’t. All I felt was a dull feeling, my body too sluggish to react, like I hadn’t fully woken up yet. I knew I’d locked it last night. I always did. This neighborhood wasn’t the kind of place where you forgot things like that and got away with it.

Still, I told myself I was tired. I had too many double shifts. Too many late nights and brains misfire when they’re tired.

The moan above me rose again, louder this time, and I scowled. That settled it. I wasn’t going to lie here poundering over an open window when rent was due and I had a seven a.m. appointment.

I shoved the covers off and sat up, the room tilting briefly before i found my balance.. I crossed the space and pushed the window shut, locking it with more force than necessary, the click echoed too loudly in the quiet room.

“There,” I muttered. “Much better.”

I turned towards the bathroom and the florescent light flicked to life and when I saw myself in the mirror, I almost cried.

My black hair was tangled around my shoulders, my green eyes dulled by exhaustion stared back at me, ringed faintly with shadows I hadn’t bothered to cover in days. My body was familiar in the same way with big breasts that drew attention whether I wanted them to or not, skin marked with the only tattoo I’d ever gotten.

The ink sat between my breasts, black lines curling through my cleavage and wrapping beneath the curve of them. Something I’d chosen on a drunk and angry night after my first breakup.

I splashed water on my face and leaned on the sink. I straightened and puffed out a breath.

“Get it together Avia,” I told my reflection.

I pulled on a tank top that showed just enough, dark jeans,my favorite boots, grabbed my bag, and headed out. The cab ride to the tattoo parlor was quiet. The city was just waking up, streetlights flickering off, vendors setting up, people moving with that half-dead morning shuffle.

The tattoo parlor smelled like antiseptic and ink when I walked in. Music hummed low from the speakers. A couple of the others were already there, moving around and setting up their stations.

“Morning,” someone muttered.

“Morning,” I replied, dropping my bag behind my station.

Theo leaned against the counter like he always did, coffee in hand, eyes flicking up the second I entered. He smiled slowly, like he had all the time in the world.

“You look tired,” he said. “Rough night?”

“You could say that.” I replied dryly, tying my hair back.

He chuckled, lips now pulling into a smirk. “I could help with that sometime.”

I snorted without looking at him, rolling my eyes at his usual flirt. “Dream big.”

The bell above the door chimed and I looked up and all I could think was—

He’s big.

Not just tall. Solid. With broad shoulders stretching the seams of his jacket, hands large and clenched at his sides. He didn’t hesitate inside the doorway or glance around the shop like other customers would. He stepped in like he already knew where he wanted to me.

His eyes found me immediately.

They didn’t flick away, didn’t roam like customers would. They stayed pinned on my face.

My stomach tightened again, my breath hitched, my hand twitched with instinctive.

“You my seven o’clock?” I asked, forcing my voice steady as I wiped my gloves on a cloth.

He nodded once. “Flaming tongue.”

Of course it was.

I gestured toward the chair and he sat, movements controlled and his gaze never leaving me. He wasn’t leering or smiling. Just watching, like he was committing details to memory—the way I shifted my weight, the way my hands moved, the way my mouth tightened when I concentrated.

It made my skin itch.

The session stretched longer than it should have. Two hours of near silence broken only by the buzz of the machine and the low hum of music. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t ask for breaks. Barely breathed differently when the needle hit sensitive spots. His eyes followed me constantly, even when I leaned away, even when I turned to grab supplies.

I told myself I’d dealt with worse. I told myself I was imagining things.

When I finished, he stood and studied the tattoo in the mirror for a long moment before nodding.

“Good work,” he said curtly, then paid without complaint. Then tipped. A lot. Enough that I hesitated before taking it.

Creepy or not, money was money.

Then he left without another word.

Theo let out a low whistle once the door shut, pointing a finger at the door then back at me. “That guy was weird as hell. I saw how he kept staring at you.”

I snorted, wiping down my station and trying to play it off. “Please. You think I don’t see you looking at me too?”

He laughed. “Fair.”

The rest of the day blurred together and by the time my shift ended, my feet ached and my head buzzed. I decided to skip a cab for my second job since It wasn’t far, and I needed the walk from sitting all day.

It was already nighttime when I stepped onto the street with streetlights cast long shadows that stretched and tangled at my feet. I adjusted the strap of my bag and kept my head down as I walked.

Then I heard the footsteps behind me.

I told myself it was nothing. Cities were full of footsteps. Full of people moving in the same direction for a block or two before peeling off. Still, my shoulders tightened.

The sound continued but it was closer now. Too even with mine. Too fucking close.

I sped up.

So did the footsteps.

My pulse kicked hard as I risked a glance over my shoulder and that was when a hand clamped over my mouth.

I screamed into it, the sound tearing out of my chest and muffled against skin. Fewr shot through me, my heart slammed hard against my chest, my mind racing for what to do the I bit down hard on the skin, tasting copper, and lashed out blindly. Then my foot connected with something soft and a grunt followed.

I twisted, ripping free, and ran.

My boots slapped against the pavement as I bolted down the street, lungs burning almost immediately and the footsteps thundered behind me.

More than one.

“Help!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “Please! Somebody, help!”

The city didn’t answer.

I glanced back and my heart dropped straight into my stomach. Three of them. Maybe four. Shapes moving fast, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

I quickly turned into an alley, desperate to get away from them. Trash bins loomed out of the dark and the smell of rot and piss hit my nose.

Before I could turn another corner, hands grabbed me.

I crashed into bodies, and a cry left my lips as a fist struck my side, driving the air from my lungs. Another blow to my head and I saw stars bursting behind my eyes. I fought—kicked, scratched, screamed—pure instinct and pure terror rushing through me but it wasn’t enough.

Pain bloomed everywhere and the world tilted violently and I hit the ground.

The last thing I felt was concrete biting into my skin. And when I looked up, the man from earlier was looking down at me.

Then everything went black.