Page 70 of Hidden Echoes

ZANE

The moment Mia leaves, I want to follow her.

My whole body leans toward it, my muscles tense as if they need to act, as if it’s an uncontrollable instinct.

But I hold on. I hold on with all the strength I have, because I know there is a line I can’t cross.

Mia has spent her entire life being locked away, imprisoned, and I will never be someone who makes her feel that way.

I fire off a message to Mia, my fingers almost trembling as I type, the screen flickering in front of me. I don’t even know what I’m doing.

“Mia… please. I need to talk to you. Can we just figure this out? I don’t know what Carter told you, but it’s not true. You’ve got to trust me on this.”

I pause, my thumb hovering over the screen, then add another message, my frustration leaking out through the words.

“I know I don’t always say what I mean, but I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of asshole. I never meant to hurt you.”

I lean back against the wall, chewing on my bottom lip, my mind racing. She probably won’t even respond. She probably hates me now. But I can’t just leave it like this. Ican’t.

“Please, Mia… talk to me.”

I send the message and stare at the screen, my chest tightening with every passing second.

Why does it feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t control?

She silenced me completely and left without looking back.

And I hated it. I hated it more than anything.

“Are you going to Santino’s party again?” Carter asks, but there’s no surprise in his voice. Just that usual exasperation. Like I’m predictable.

He has the fucking nerve to act like nothing happened.

I shrug. It’s not like I care much about these LA parties. They serve a purpose—to make connections, to gain exposure.

People pay a lot of money for a top-notch tattoo artist who works on the skin of celebrities. But today… I’m not in the mood for that today.

Mia is mad at me. And it shouldn't affect me this much. But it does. Because I know I fucked up. And that girl is never mad at me. Ever.

I didn't realize how much I liked the way she looked at me, like I was her fucking salvation, until I saw the look of disappointment on her face. It was like something in me just... snapped.

I know I can't push her too hard. She's had enough people trying to shape her, trying to pin her down.

She should be here, eating her waffles, laughing in that impulsive, messy way of hers—not out there, alone, doing who knows what.

But it doesn't matter how I feel.

What matters is that I need to understand what happened for her to leave like that.

And fucking Carter has the answer.

I don’t give a fuck if he has some sort of infatuation with me. I’ve always just let it go because it wasn’t worth ruining our partnership over.

It doesn’t mean that just because I fuck guys the same way I fuck girls, I fall head over heels for anyone who crosses my path. It’s not my problem if he wants me. I never saw him like that.

I don’t give a damn about his bullshit—he’s not getting away with this.

My fists tighten, the anger coursing through me like electricity. He knows something. He has to.

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