Page 43 of Hidden Echoes

And just like that, I feel like I can breathe again.

I’m usually good at burying the things that haunt me, tucking them away in the deepest corners of my mind where they can’t reach me. I’ve mastered the art of distraction—keeping my hands busy, my body moving, my mind just hazy enough to keep the past at bay.

But some memories don’t stay buried. Some claw their way to the surface, slipping through the cracks when I least expect it. And when they do, it’s like they were never gone at all.

The girl had barely stepped out of the studio when Mia appeared—fast, deliberate, like she’d been waiting.

She jumps onto the stretcher, straddling me with ease, her legs locking around my waist.

My eyes widen at the sight, but unlike everyone else, Mia doesn’t look at me with that familiar, predatory hunger. Instead, her gaze is wide, innocent—like she’s searching for something she doesn’t quite understand, something she believes I can give her.

She looks at me as if I’m the answer to all her problems, her eyes soft but searching, filled with a quiet desperation I can’t ignore.

For some strange reason I can’t fully explain, I don’t really mind when Mia seeks affection from me.

Maybe it’s because, deep down, there’s this part of me—some messed-up part—that wants to be the person she turns to, without expecting anything in return.

I get that feeling, like I’m willing to be the one to give her comfort, even if it means nothing more than just being there for her.

It’s... different.

I’m not used to feeling like this, but somehow, with her, it feels okay.

Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for me, her touch gentle, almost tentative, like she’s afraid of shattering the fragile connection between us.

I don’t move to pull away. I just stand there, letting her express whatever it is she needs to, the vulnerability in her gaze too pure, too trusting, to deny.

“So,” she purrs, tilting her head, “what’s my prize?”

She’s smiling, but it’s not the light, playful grin she used to wear when she wanted to tease me. No, this one is different—calculated, razor-sharp. Mia is on a mission.

“Your prize?” I echo, my voice coming out lower than I expect. I’m in trouble. Heat coils in my stomach, slow and insidious, tightening with every passing second. The air between us thickens.

Her skin is impossibly soft beneath my touch, smooth like silk and pale like moonlight spilling through an open window.

I have to fight the urge to trace my fingers along every curve, to map out the warmth of her body with my hands. It’s a need I never expected—primal, consuming—like an ache just beneath my skin, demanding to be soothed.

“Yeah.” Her smile doesn’t waver.

“And may I ask what you think you’ve achieved?”

Her grin stretches wider, a slow, knowing smile that sends a shiver down my spine. She leans in, her movements deliberate, her lips hovering just beside my ear. I can feel the heat of her breath, each exhale teasing my skin, sending a pulse of awareness through me. She doesn’t speak right away—she lets the silence hang between us, thick with unspoken intent. My pulse kicks up, my body tensing in anticipation. Then, finally, in a voice so low it feels like a secret.

“For starters.” Her voice is sultry, dangerous, possessive—and fuck, every nerve in my body ignites at the sound. “I didn’t kill that girl when she suggested having fun with something that’s mine.”

I go completely still.

She heard.

Of course, she fucking heard. And what’s worse? She acted like nothing happened, played the game so well that I actually thought she’d missed it. But Mia isn’t some naïve girl. She can be the sweetest soul or the deadliest one, all in the blink of an eye.

She’s no amateur.

My throat goes dry. “Mia—”

“I was thinking about all the ways I could’ve killed her,” she continues casually, as if she’s discussing what to order for dinner. “But I didn’t. Because I decided to trust you instead.” Her fingers press into my shoulders, her body molding against mine. “Because you know you’re my Zane.”

“We barely know each other.”

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