Zhan
I wake to warmth. Not the sterile chill of a cell, not the ache of fear pressing into my ribs, but warmth.
Wang's chest is against my back, his arm draped heavy over my waist, his steady breath fanning the back of my neck. For a moment, I just lie there, eyes closed, soaking it in, the solid weight of him, the faint scent of his skin, the quiet hum of safety that I'd almost forgotten how to feel.
I shift slightly, and his grip tightens instinctively.
"Don't," he murmurs sleepily, voice rough from the night. "Stay."
I smile faintly. "I'm not going anywhere."
He exhales, nuzzling against my shoulder. His lips brush over my skin, lazy and soft. "Good," he says, like he's claiming the word.
The room is still dim, sunlight only just beginning to filter through the curtains. It feels like the world outside doesn't exist, no prison walls, no threats, no fear. Just us.
I turn in his arms to face him. He's half-awake, hair tousled, eyes heavy but warm in a way I've never seen before.
"Morning," I whisper.
He smirks faintly. "Morning." His thumb traces my cheekbone, slow and absent, like he's memorizing me again. "You look better here."
"Here?"
"In my bed. Where you belong."
I roll my eyes but can't fight the flush creeping up my neck. "You're ridiculous."
"Maybe," he says, leaning in until his forehead presses against mine. "But you're still here."
I kiss him softly. No urgency this time, just slow, tender, grounding. He pulls me closer, like even now he doesn't quite trust the world not to steal me away again.
We stay like that for what feels like forever, wrapped up in each other, the morning light creeping in around us, both of us breathing in sync.
When Dre bangs on the door yelling, "Rise and shine, lovebirds! Breakfast's getting cold or we can eat all of it. Ezra laughed!", Wang groans against my neck and mutters, "Five more minutes."
I laugh. "He's not going to stop."
"Then let him starve."
I kiss him again, and for the first time in forever, the future doesn't feel like something I need to fear.
We finally drag ourselves out of bed, reluctantly. Ezra's threats about "eating everything" prove hollow, he's sitting at the table with Dre, already halfway through his third plate.
"About time," Dre says with his mouth full. "I thought we'd have to send a search party."
Wang ignores him, pouring coffee while I slide into the seat next to Ezra. For a fleeting moment, everything feels... normal.
Until Wang's phone buzzes.
He glances at it casually, then stiffens.
I notice immediately. "What is it?"
He doesn't answer, just turns the screen toward me. A message.
From: Mom.
Tell Zhan to meet me. Alone.
My stomach drops.
Dre whistles low. "Ooooh, that sounds bad."
Ezra elbows him. "Not helping."
Wang's jaw tightens. "You're not going."
"I think I have to," I say quietly, heart pounding.
"Zhan—"
"She helped get me out. If she wants to talk, I should hear her out."
Wang looks ready to argue, but then his phone buzzes again. Another message.
Looks like an address.
Ezra frowns. "This is either going to be really good... or really bad."
Dre leans back in his chair, smirking. "I vote bad. Always bet bad."
I stand, nerves twisting my gut. Wang grabs my wrist. His voice is low, dangerous.
"If anything happens—"
"I know," I whisper. "I'll call."
Wang drops me a block away from the meeting spot. Wang in the driver's seat, Ezra and Dre silent in the back.
"If she says anything you don't like," Wang mutters, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "just walk away from her. Don't try to win."
I nod. "Okay."
He doesn't look at me, but his hand brushes mine briefly before I step out.
The café is quiet, tucked into a corner of the city where no one pays attention. The kind of place people forget exists.
Mrs. Wang is already inside, sitting in the farthest booth. Her back straight. A single cup of tea in front of her, untouched.
She doesn't smile when I walk up.
"Sit," she says.
I do. My palms are damp.
Silence stretches between us. She studies me like I'm under a microscope, her eyes sharp, cold, dissecting.
"I didn't call you here to threaten you," she says finally.
"That's... reassuring," I say, trying for humor. It falls flat.
She leans in, ignoring the comment. "Do you want to know where they are?"
I blink. "Who?"
She slides a piece of paper across the table. I unfold it slowly.
Names.
Their names.
My throat tightens. My vision tunnels.
I know every single one.
"They're as good as dead," I whisper.
Mrs. Wang doesn't blink. "I'm telling you this because I don't want my son involved. If you drag him into this, I will come for you. And I will bury you silently."
The air in the café feels suddenly thin. I shake my head, barely able to think past the names on the page. The memories they carry. The weight.
"Why?" I ask, voice raw. "Why tell me this?"
She sits back, calm as ever. "Because not wanting you in my son's life doesn't mean I want you to suffer for something you didn't do."
Ice coils through my spine.
"Thank you," is all I can manage.
Her expression doesn't soften. "They don't know you're out. That's your advantage." She pauses. "You can tell Wang you need to see your people, clear your head. Let him go back to his wife and daughter. I'll give you money. You can disappear too."
I stare at her, the paper trembling in my hand.
"What do you want me to do?"
She meets my eyes—flat, ruthless, unreadable.
"I don't care what you do," she says. "Just don't involve my son.
And without another word, she walks away.
I stay seated for a moment, then fold the paper slowly and tuck it into my pocket like it's something radioactive. Then I follow her lead.
Outside, the city feels too loud. Too bright. I spot the car and walk toward it, head spinning. I open the door and slide in.
"Bad news?" Dre asks, turning in his seat, eyes hopeful, but wary.
I stare straight ahead. "Your mom offered me money to break up with you," I say. My voice is flat, but my chest is screaming. "I lied and I hated it."
Wang goes still. Ezra sits up straighter.
"She said I'm 'reasonable.' That I'd understand family. That I should think of your daughter."
"And?" Ezra asks quietly.
I glance at Wang. He's not blinking. Just watching me like he's trying to hear what I'm not saying.
"And I told her..." I swallow, trying to smile, but it's the kind that doesn't make it past my mouth. "I told her she could offer me the world, and I still wouldn't leave him."
Wang doesn't move for a moment. Then he leans across the seat and pulls me into a kiss. Not rushed. Not panicked. Just firm, anchoring.
When he pulls back, his voice is quiet but unshakable. "Good."
I rest my forehead against his, heart still unsteady. And for a second, I let myself believe it'll be okay.
Wang rests his forehead against mine for another second before settling back in his seat, his hand finding mine again, fingers laced tightly.
But the weight in my pocket is unbearable.
He roars the engine back to life and pulls onto the road. The ride home is wrapped in silence, yet his hand never once lets go of mine, steady, warm, a quiet promise in the dark.
When we get home, we all head inside, but Wang's hand catches mine, tugging me back. "I need to make a few calls," he says softly, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before letting go.
I follow Dre and Ezra through the door. The moment it shuts behind us, Dre grabs my arm, his eyes narrowing.
"There's more," he says. "Spill."
"What?" I blink, confused.
He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I've been with you for seven years. I know that look."
She didn't just offer me money," I say, quietly now. "She gave me something else."
Ezra leans in. "What?"
I reach into my jacket and pull out the folded sheet. My fingers hesitate before unfolding it again. The names stare back at me like ghosts, ones I tried to forget.
I pass the paper to Dre.
He takes it without a word, his expression slowly tightening as he scans the list. "Jesus..."
Ezra peers over his shoulder. "These are real?"
I nod. "Every single one. Their location and phone numbers.
Dre whistles low, shaking his head. "This is good news. This is a death list."
"She said they don't know I'm out yet," I mutter. "And I could do whatever I want with them." Said I could 'let Wang go deal with his wife and daughter' while I figure out my life somewhere else."
Ezra's jaw tightens. "Classic Mrs. Wang. Cold-blooded logic with just enough compassion to sound like she's doing you a favor."
"I know she doesn't want me with him. I knew that going in." I pause. "But she said... she said she didn't want me to suffer for something I didn't do. She didn't have to say that."
Silence.
Then I ask the question that's been burning a hole in my chest since I left the café.
"So what do I do?" I ask them. "Run? Go after them? Pretend this never happened?"
Ezra leans back, eyes on the ceiling. "Depends what you want. Revenge? Closure? Justice?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe all of it. Maybe none."
Dre folds the paper and presses it back into my hand. His voice is low, firm. "Here's what I think. If we stay here, we'll never be free. Not really. We'll be watching every shadow, waiting for someone to knock on the door with our names on a bullet. I'd rather catch a bullet fighting than rot inside four walls."
Ezra's lips twitch into something between a smirk and a snarl. "And I need to put my skills to use."
I glance at the door, my voice dropping. "I don't want to leave him."
"Leave who?" Dre frowns.
"Wang," I whisper.
Dre narrows his eyes. "If you don't tell him, I will." He pushes off the wall and strides away.
That's exactly when Wang walks in. His eyes flick to me, instantly reading the tension written across my face. "You okay? You look... tense."
I let out a long sigh. My chest feels too tight to hold in any longer. "Your mom. She gave me their names. She wants me gone. Offered me money. Told me to let you go back to your family."
Wang doesn't flinch. He just smiles faintly, like he expected it. He leans down and kisses me, slow, grounding. Then whispers against my lips, "I know."
I blink. "You... what?"
He pulls me inside before I can question him, arm secure around me. Dre and Ezra are sprawled on the couch, the TV flickering, but both of them are clearly listening.
Wang doesn't waste time. He sits, tugging me down beside him. His eyes are calm, voice steady, but there's iron underneath every word.
"We're going hunting, boys," Wang says. "Our flight's at eight."
For a heartbeat, the room is silent, like even the air is stunned.
Then Dre grins wide, practically bouncing. "Finally."
Ezra's smile is smaller, sharper. "About time."
Their excitement is contagious, sparking through my veins even as dread coils tight in my stomach. For the first time, it feels like the shadows we've been running from... are about to get hunted themselves.
The clock moves faster than I want it to. By the time the sun dips behind the city skyline, we're packed, bags light, only what we can carry, only what we'll need.
The car ride to the airport is quiet, humming with the kind of silence that's louder than noise. Dre drums his fingers on the window, restless energy practically vibrating off him. Ezra sits with his arms crossed, eyes sharp, like he's already playing out a dozen scenarios in his head.
Beside me, Wang is still. Too still. His hand rests on my knee, warm, steady, anchoring me even when my thoughts are anything but.
The airport is busy, but not chaotic. Just enough noise to swallow us whole. We move through security without incident, our forged papers smooth, practiced.
When we finally sit at the gate, the weight of it hits me, no turning back. No more hiding.
Dre's the first to break the tension. "We're really doing this," he mutters, almost laughing. "Feels like the start of a movie."
Ezra snorts. "If it is, you're the comic relief who dies first."
"Harsh," Dre says, but he grins anyway.
I lean against Wang. He doesn't push me off; instead, his arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me close. He's quiet, but I can feel his heartbeat, steady, calm, like it's his way of telling me we'll be fine.
"You scared?" he asks softly, just for me.
"Yes," I whisper. But I'm not scared for me, I am scared for him.
"Good." He presses a kiss to my temple. "Means you'll be careful. I don't need reckless, I need you alive."
My throat tightens. "And if something happens—"
He cuts me off, his voice firm. "Nothing's happening to you. Not while I'm breathing."
The boarding call crackles through the speakers. People stand, shuffle forward, their voices a blur.
Wang stands too, tugging me up with him. His grip on my hand is unshakable. "This is it," he says, calm but fierce. "This will be fun."
Dre and Ezra fall in behind us, both wearing matching sharp-edged smiles.
As we walk toward the gate, my stomach knots with fear, but something else hums beneath it. Excitement. Purpose.
For the first time in a long time, the hunt isn't for me. It's for them.