Ezra's POV
The gasoline fumes make my eyes burn.
"Get behind me," I tell Victoria, pushing her toward the back of the storage unit.
Marcus stands in the doorway, lighter in one hand, gas can in the other. He's smiling like this is all just another experiment.
"You know what's fascinating?" Marcus says. "The human survival instinct. Even when you know you're going to die, you still fight. Still run. Still hope." He tilts his head. "I've been studying it for fifteen years. You'd think I'd get bored, but every subject surprises me."
"You're insane," Victoria says.
"No. I'm brilliant." Marcus pours more gasoline. "Insanity is doing something without purpose. Everything I do has purpose. Scientific purpose."
I need to keep him talking. Buy time. Think of something.
"How did you know about the storage unit?" I ask.
"Sarah told me. Before she jumped, she was crying, begging me not to hurt her students. She said she'd hidden evidence, but promised she'd destroy it if I left everyone alone." Marcus laughs. "She actually believed I'd keep that promise. So trusting. That's what killed her—trust."
"You pushed her," Victoria whispers.
"I created the conditions. She did the rest." Marcus shrugs. "Just like you'll create the conditions for your own deaths. I won't touch you. The fire will. And when they find your bodies, the evidence will be gone. You'll just be two troubled people who couldn't escape their guilt."
He flicks the lighter.
I grab Victoria's hand and dive sideways as flames explode behind us.
We crash through boxes, papers flying everywhere. The fire spreads fast, eating through years of evidence.
"The back!" Victoria yells. "Storage units have back panels for maintenance!"
We scramble to the rear wall. I kick it hard. Once. Twice. The cheap metal dents.
Behind us, Marcus walks through the flames like they can't hurt him. Maybe in his twisted mind, they can't.
"Run all you want," he calls. "I've already won. The evidence is burning. Your credibility is destroyed. No one will believe you."
I kick the panel again. It breaks open.
We squeeze through into the next unit. Then the next. Running through the maze of storage spaces while Marcus's laughter follows us.
Finally, we burst out a side exit into the night air.
Victoria's coughing, her face covered in soot. I pull her away from the building as sirens wail in the distance. Someone must have seen the fire.
"We lost everything," Victoria says between coughs. "All of Professor Mitchell's evidence. It's gone."
"Not everything." I pull out my phone, showing her the screen. "I took pictures of the letter and the USB drive labels before the fire started. It's not as good as the real thing, but it's something."
"Marcus will say we faked them."
"Probably." I watch the storage facility burn. Fire trucks are arriving. "But at least we're alive."
Victoria looks at me. Really looks at me. "You saved me again. In the house with the juice. And just now with the fire."
"You saved me too. I never would have found this place without you."
"We make a good team," she says softly.
"For two people who just met a few weeks ago."
She laughs, and it's such a strange sound after everything—genuine, warm, alive. "Has it only been a few weeks? It feels like forever."
"Trauma does that. Speeds up time." I've learned that from studying psychology. "You can know someone for years and never really see them. Or you can know someone for days and see everything."
"What do you see when you look at me?" Victoria asks.
I should say something safe. Something that keeps distance between us. But I'm tired of lying.
"I see someone who's been fighting alone for so long that she forgot she was strong," I say. "I see someone who loves so deeply that losing people almost destroyed her. I see someone who could have given up a thousand times but didn't."
Victoria's eyes shine with tears. "You see too much."
"You asked."
"What do you see when you look at yourself?" she asks.
No one's ever asked me that. "Someone who failed the one person who believed in him. Someone who's been trying to fix that mistake ever since but doesn't know how."
"Professor Mitchell's death wasn't your fault."
"My brain knows that. My heart doesn't believe it yet."
We stand in silence, watching the fire trucks work. Police are arriving now too. We'll have to give statements. Explain why we were at the storage unit. Hope they believe us.
"Ezra," Victoria says suddenly. "Why did you really help me? When I told you about Marcus, you could have walked away. Quit the job. Protected yourself. Why didn't you?"
I've been asking myself the same question.
"Because when I saw you crying in the rain that first day, I recognized something," I say slowly. "The way you were hurting—it was the same way I hurt after Professor Mitchell died. Like you were drowning and no one could see it. And I thought... I couldn't save her, but maybe I could save you."
"So I'm your second chance?"
"No. You're your own person. But helping you helps me too. It makes Professor Mitchell's death mean something. Like maybe all this pain has a purpose."
Victoria takes my hand. Her fingers are cold and shaking. "What happens now?"
"Now we tell the police everything. Show them the photos on my phone. Hope they investigate."
"And if they don't believe us?"
"Then we run. Leave town. Start over somewhere Marcus can't find us."
"Together?" Victoria asks.
I know I should say no. She's vulnerable. I'm her husband's student. The age difference. The power dynamics. Everything about this is complicated and messy and wrong.
But when I look at her, I don't see my mentor's wife or someone I need to save. I see Victoria—brave and broken and fighting to survive.
"Together," I say.
A police officer approaches us, asking questions about the fire. We start explaining, but I keep the USB drive photos hidden for now. Something feels wrong. The officer is looking at us too carefully. Taking too many notes.
Then I see Marcus talking to the fire chief. Shaking hands. Laughing like they're old friends.
He catches my eye and smiles.
"Officers," Marcus calls out. "I'm Dr. Marcus Chen. This is my wife Victoria, and my student Ezra. I'm so glad you found them safe."
"You know these two?" the officer asks.
"Unfortunately, yes. My wife has been struggling with mental illness since our son's death. Paranoid delusions. She's convinced I'm trying to hurt her." Marcus sounds so concerned, so loving. "Her therapist warned me she might do something desperate. Breaking into storage units, starting fires—it's classic manic behavior."
"That's a lie!" Victoria shouts.
"See?" Marcus says sadly. "The paranoia. And I'm afraid my student has become obsessed with my wife. I have evidence of their inappropriate relationship. Text messages. Photos. I was coming here tonight to stop them before they did something dangerous."
The officer's expression changes. Now he's looking at us like we're criminals.
"Sir, ma'am, I need you to come down to the station for questioning," he says, hand moving to his handcuffs.
"No," I say. "This is exactly what he wants. He's manipulating you—"
"Son, you need to calm down."
"We have evidence!" Victoria pulls out her phone, but it's dead from being thrown out the car window earlier. "We had evidence. Photos. Proof that Marcus is a killer—"
"Officers, please," Marcus interrupts smoothly. "My wife needs medical help, not jail. And Ezra is a good student who made poor choices. I don't want to press charges. I just want them to get the treatment they need."
He's doing it again. Making us look crazy while he looks like the perfect, concerned husband and mentor.
The officers are buying it. I can see it in their faces.
"Wait," Victoria says desperately. "The fire. Marcus started it. Test his clothes for gasoline. Check his hands—"
"Mrs. Chen, you're clearly upset," one officer says gently. "Let's get you somewhere safe where you can rest."
"I'M NOT CRAZY!" Victoria screams.
They move to restrain her. I step between them and Victoria, and suddenly there are hands on me too, pushing me down.
This is it. We're being arrested while Marcus walks free.
"Oh, one more thing, officers," Marcus says casually. "You should check the storage unit. I believe they were hiding stolen university property. Ezra has been taking files from my office for weeks. I have video surveillance proving it."
My stomach drops. He set that up too. Of course he did.
We're being dragged toward the police cars when a woman's voice cuts through the chaos.
"Stop! FBI! Nobody move!"
A woman in a dark suit pushes through the crowd, badge held high.
"Special Agent Sarah Morrison, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Dr. Marcus Chen, you're under arrest for multiple counts of murder, attempted murder, and fraud."
Marcus's face goes white. For the first time since I've known him, he looks scared.
"How—" he starts.
"Professor Sarah Mitchell sent me everything before she died," Agent Morrison says. "Copies of all her evidence, mailed to my office with instructions to open them if anything happened to her. I've been building a case against you for two years, waiting for you to make a mistake." She looks at Ezra and Victoria. "Tonight, you gave me that mistake."
"You set us up," Victoria breathes. "The storage unit. You knew we'd go there."
"We've been watching Dr. Chen for months. When my surveillance team saw you breaking in there this afternoon, Ezra, we knew something was about to happen. We couldn't warn you without blowing our cover, but we were close by the whole time." Agent Morrison nods to her team, who move to handcuff Marcus. "You two were never in real danger. Well, not from the fire anyway. That part surprised us."
Marcus struggles against the handcuffs. "You can't prove anything. My lawyers will—"
"We have fifteen years of evidence. Sarah Mitchell documented everything. Plus testimony from Helena Voss, who agreed to testify in exchange for immunity." Agent Morrison smiles grimly. "You're done, Dr. Chen."
As they drag Marcus away, he looks back at me and Victoria.
"This isn't over," he mouths.
Agent Morrison turns to us. "You two need to come with me. Give your statements. You're safe now."
But as we follow her to the FBI van, my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
YOU THINK YOU WON? I HAVE FRIENDS EVERYWHERE. PEOPLE WHO OWE ME FAVORS. PEOPLE WHO WILL FINISH WHAT I STARTED. WATCH YOUR BACK, EZRA. AND TELL VICTORIA HER SON'S DEATH WAS JUST THE BEGINNING. —M
I show Victoria the message.
Her face goes pale. "He sent that from the police car. While wearing handcuffs."
"He's bluffing," I say. But my voice shakes.
"Is he?" Victoria asks. "Marcus always has a backup plan. What if getting arrested is part of it?"
Agent Morrison calls us over, but I can't move. Can't stop staring at that message.
Because Victoria's right. Marcus always wins.
And if he wins this time, we're both dead.