CHAPTER 4

ZARIA

Finally.

The plane touched down with a soft jolt that rattled through my bones, and for an irrational second, my heartbeat increased in tempo as if Renzo himself might be standing at the end of the runway, waiting with that calm, terrifying smile.

My fingers curled tightly around the armrest, until the aircraft slowed and the engines’ roar softened into something almost gentle.

I was really here.

Brazil.

A different continent. A different life. A different name stamped inside the passport tucked deep inside my bag.

As the seatbelt sign blinked off, people around me stood, stretching, chatting, complaining about the heat, the flight, and the wait ahead… I remained seated for a few extra seconds, pressing my palm against my stomach again.

“We made it,” I whispered, squeezing a little. “You’re safe. I promise.”

The promise felt fragile, but I held onto it. It had gotten me this far anyway.

The airport was loud, humid, and alive. Portuguese words flew around me which were… familiar and comforting at the same time because they weren’t his language, weren’t his people.

My heart didn’t slow until I passed through immigration without a single raised brow, without my fake identity being questioned, without anyone asking me to step aside.

Thank goodness.

When the officer stamped my passport and slid it back to me, I felt the urge to smile. But instead of doing that, I murmured a soft thank you and walked away before my knees could give out.

Outside, I hailed a taxi, gave the address I had memorized weeks ago, and sank into the back seat. Exhaustion crashed over me all at once. Only then did my phone vibrate.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs as I pulled it out. I expected Renzo’s name to flash across the screen, expecting the calm, threatening message that would tell me this was all pointless because he would find me… gut me for even thinking of…

But it wasn’t him.

It was May.

I opened the message with shaking fingers.

HE WOKE UP.

Dread coiled round my throat.

Another message came through almost immediately.

He’s furious. They’re looking everywhere. I’m sorry, Zaria. I’m so sorry.

A third message followed before I could even process the second.

He thinks you were taken. Hasn’t considered that you left on your own. Yet.

Taken.

I scoffed. Of course he would think that.

Renzo Dominico did not believe in abandonment. That cruel man thought he was perfect enough, always believing in theft, betrayal, violence… but not choice. Nah. and that was what made him the fool.

I typed quickly, my fingers clumsy.

Delete this chat. Destroy the phone. Leave tonight. Use the money in the closet. Do not contact me again.

There was a pause that felt too long.

Then:

Thank you. For everything. I won’t forget you.

My throat felt dry as I locked the phone and powered it off completely. It would stay off for days, maybe weeks. Long enough for me to disappear properly.

The taxi pulled up in front of a modest hotel tucked between a café and a small clothing store. It wasn’t luxurious, nor fortified with guards and cameras and steel doors. It was normal which felt like safety… or so.

Stop it, Zaria. I shouldn't jinx this.

Inside my room, I shut the door, locked it, then locked it again, checking the handle twice before finally sliding down until my back hit the door and I was sitting on the floor. My eyes welled up with tears of gratitude.

I won’t cry for my supposed illusion of freedom because this is just the first step out of many to escape Renzo. The opposite grey wall seemed more interesting as I stared at it, listening to my own heartbeat and waiting for the crushing dream to pass. When it didn’t, I stood abruptly and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.

My reflection stared back at me, eyes too large, skin too pale, and my lips trembling despite my effort to still them.

“You can’t fall apart now,” I told her. Told me. “We still have one more thing to do and then it will be forever.”

The next few days blurred together in a careful routine that won't get me caught.

I didn’t leave the hotel room the first day. I ordered room service, watched Brazilian television I barely understood, and memorized the sounds of the city outside my window. I slept restlessly, convinced I’d heard his voice, his footsteps, the click of his gun being set on the nightstand.

On the second day, I forced myself outside.

I wore sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, stopping to browse shop windows, buying fruit from a street vendor. It was better to familiarize myself around the city.

No black cars slowed near me.

No Hawk in a black suit, watching me across the street.

By the third day, the truth settled heavily in my chest.

Renzo would find out the truth eventually. He would realize I wasn’t taken and that I had deceived him, drugged him, and vanished with his heir growing quietly inside me.

And when he did…

I pressed my hand to my stomach again.

“I won’t let him,” I whispered fiercely. “I won’t.”

I found an apartment at the edge of the city, small but clean, paid in cash under my new name. I bought secondhand furniture, learned the bus routes, enrolled in Portuguese classes under the excuse of being a foreign student starting over.

Some nights, I woke up choking on sobs I hadn’t allowed myself to feel during the day. All this while… Renzo deceived me. I stopped sleeping after those nights and before I knew it, a week had passed.

My body changed subtly into what was hard to describe. Probable nausea in the mornings, a constant exhaustion that sank into my bones in the evenings and the terrifying awareness that I was no longer alone inside my own skin.