{ Author }
The morning felt wrong. Too quiet.
He'd barely slept, his mind running in circles since Mia had stormed into his life and—just as quickly—walked out. He'd told her to stay. Ordered her to. But when Enzo Rossi gave an order, people didn't disobey.
Except her.
He pushed open the door to the guest room. The bed was empty, sheets untouched. The window was open, the curtains breathing with the morning breeze. Cold air slipped in, brushing against his skin like mockery.
"Mia," he muttered. "Don't play games with me."
He checked the hallway. Nothing. No trace of her.
His voice rose. "Where the hell is she?"
Two guards appeared, tense.
"Sir?"
Enzo's glare could've sliced steel. "The girl. The one who brought Lili back last night. Where is she?"
Their blank looks made something twist inside his chest.
"Sir, we don't know what you mean. There was no one else last night. Just us—and the girl you rescued."
For a moment, Enzo just stared at them. His pulse slowed, then quickened again.
"No one else?" His tone dropped, quieter now. More dangerous. "Think carefully."
"No one, Boss. You came home alone."
He took a step back. His throat felt tight, dry. Alone? That wasn't possible. He could still see her—Mia, standing there in the headlights, defiant and alive. He could still hear her voice, that infuriating calm when she'd told him he was early.
He shoved past them, heading straight for the surveillance room. He pulled up last night's footage. The monitors blinked—black static from 5:15 p.m. to 6:00. Exactly the window she'd been there.
His hand curled into a fist. "No."
He slammed the table. "No, no, no—she was here."
But the screens stayed blank.
His men exchanged glances, nervous. Maybe their boss was losing it. Enzo could feel their doubt pressing against his back.
He turned away from them, stormed into the hall—and that's when he saw it.
On the marble floor near the entrance, something small and dark.
He crouched, picking it up.
A black hair tie.
He stared at it for a long time. Simple. Ordinary. But he recognized it instantly—she'd worn it around her wrist last night. There was a faint strand of hair still tangled around it, glinting in the light.
Enzo's jaw tightened. His heart calmed, in that cold, steady way it always did when rage found its target.
"So you were real," he whispered.
He closed his fist around the hair tie. The guards behind him were still watching, unsure what to say.
He slipped the tie into his pocket, straightened, and gave a low command:
"Find her. Quietly. No questions."
When the guards hesitated, he added, softly—too softly:
"If she doesn't want to be found…"
He looked toward the open window.
"…then that's exactly why I have to."
{ Mia }
By the time the clock struck midnight, I was gone.
I didn't run—I slipped out. Quiet. Efficient. Like a shadow that decided it was done playing human.
Enzo's men had eyes everywhere, but they didn't see me.
Not really.
A little flicker of invisibility here, a whisper of confusion there, and by the time anyone thought to look twice, I was already climbing over the back wall. Scarlett had looped the external cameras for exactly two minutes. That was all I needed.
By 12:07, I was blocks away, the cold air biting through my jacket, my heart thudding with adrenaline that tasted a little too close to thrill.
By 12:40, I was home.
The house looked peaceful from the outside—too peaceful. Warm light spilling from the windows, curtains drawn tight. Like nothing bad ever happened under that roof.
I stepped through my bedroom wall instead of the front door, invisible until my feet hit the carpet. Scarlett hummed softly in my ear, her tone smug.
"Clone deactivated."
The copy of me—sleeping peacefully under the covers—dissolved into a soft shimmer of light before vanishing completely. I brushed the faint sparkle off my sleeve and exhaled.
Home.
Lex was sprawled across my beanbag, headphones in, pretending not to wait up. Ace leaned against the wall near my window, arms crossed, wolf eyes catching the moonlight.
They both looked up when I entered. Lex raised an eyebrow. Ace didn't move.
"You're late," Lex muttered.
"You're nosy," I shot back, smirking.
He rolled his eyes, and Ace's lip twitched—the closest thing he ever gave to a smile.
I didn't explain. They didn't ask. That's how we worked.
I grabbed my blanket, threw it over myself, and let the exhaustion pull me under before I could even think of Enzo's face—the way his eyes had burned when he realized what I'd done.
By morning, it all felt like a half-remembered dream.
My mom's voice pierced through the fog.
"Mia! You're going to be late!"
I groaned, dragging a pillow over my head. For a second, I almost forgot where I was. Then I sensed it—the faint hum of energy in the room.
I sighed.
The dome.
A thin, invisible shimmer spread across the room, sealing off the corner where Lex and Ace were still crashed. My little trick to keep them hidden. Mom could walk right past them and never notice.
I swung my legs off the bed and stretched, bones popping.
"Morning, Scarlett," I mumbled.
"Good morning, Mia. You look like death."
"Thanks," I muttered. "That's exactly the look I was going for."
A quick shower, a change of clothes, and I almost looked like a normal high school girl again—if you ignored the faint bruise near my wrist and the fact that I'd shot two men in the head less than twelve hours ago.
The smell of coffee drifted up from the kitchen. My mom was humming. My dad was reading the paper like the world hadn't been burning last night.
I forced a small smile, sat down, ate my breakfast. Toast, eggs, orange juice. Ordinary. Safe.
"You slept well?" my mom asked.
"Like a rock," I lied.
When she turned away, I caught my reflection in the window. Same girl, same hair, same calm expression. But my eyes… they looked sharper. Colder.
Dad jingled his keys. "Come on, Mia. I'll drop you off."
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and followed him out to the car. The morning sun felt too bright, the air too clean.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I leaned my head against the window, watching the world blur past. Kids with backpacks. Shops opening. People laughing.
Everything looked normal.
But deep down, I knew it wasn't.
Because somewhere across the city, a man with cold eyes and a dangerous smile was probably staring at a black hair tie—trying to figure out how a girl like me disappeared right under his nose.
I couldn't help it.
I smiled.