Mae's mind was still reeling from her conversation with Father Charlie as she slipped back into the backstage area of Hell's Angels. She leaned against the cool wall, her heart pounding, trying to make sense of everything. He had been so close, right there, but hadn't recognized her—at least not fully. And yet, something in his gaze made her think that part of him knew, on some subconscious level, that they had crossed paths before.

She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified. Seeing Father Charlie again had been like ripping open an old wound, exposing the raw vulnerability she thought she had buried years ago. He had been her anchor, her confidant, back when she was still Seraphina. Now, their roles were reversed—he was the one seeking escape, and she was hiding behind the illusion of Mae.

The irony wasn't lost on her.

Mae took a deep breath and headed to her dressing room, her thoughts racing. She had planned to lay low, to avoid drawing attention to herself while she figured out who was behind the threats. But with Father Charlie now frequenting the club, she couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling gnawing at her.

As she entered her dressing room and shut the door, Mae caught her reflection in the mirror. The bright lights around the vanity illuminated her face, but all she could see was the girl she used to be—Seraphina. The girl who had trusted Father Charlie, who had believed in something bigger than herself. But Mae was different. Mae was stronger. Mae didn't rely on anyone.

Still, the weight of his presence tugged at her. She couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to a place like Hell's Angels. He had been so steadfast in his faith, so committed to his role as a priest. Seeing him here, of all places, only added to the confusion swirling inside her.

She sat down at her vanity, her fingers trembling slightly as she removed her stage makeup. She couldn't let herself get distracted by the past. She had to focus on the present—on the real threat looming over her.

Her phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence. Mae's heart skipped a beat as she picked it up, half-expecting another message from the mysterious figure threatening to expose her past. But it was Frank.

"Everything okay? You seemed off tonight. Want to talk?"

Mae exhaled slowly, her fingers hovering over the screen. Frank had been her constant in all this, the one person who knew more about the situation than anyone else. But she hadn't told him about Father Charlie's appearance at the club. She wasn't sure why—maybe she didn't want to admit how much seeing him again had affected her.

She typed out a quick response. "I'm fine. Just tired. I'll see you tomorrow."

Setting the phone down, Mae leaned back in her chair, staring at her reflection once again. She needed a plan, something to keep her grounded, to help her navigate the chaos that was closing in around her.

But every time she tried to think clearly, the image of Father Charlie's face—his eyes filled with quiet sadness—kept pulling her back.

The next evening, Mae arrived at Hell's Angels with a sense of unease that clung to her like a second skin. She had spent most of the day trying to figure out what to do next, but no clear answers had come. The only thing she knew for certain was that she couldn't avoid Father Charlie forever. If he kept coming back to the club, it was only a matter of time before he recognized her. And then what?

As she made her way through the backstage area, Mae felt a strange mix of anticipation and dread. Part of her wanted to see him again, to confront the past head-on, while another part of her wanted to run, to disappear before everything fell apart.

She slipped into her dressing room, her fingers absentmindedly adjusting the costume she'd be wearing for the night's performance. The familiar routine usually calmed her nerves, but tonight, it did little to settle the storm brewing inside her.

Mae sat down at her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror once again. The lights around the mirror cast a warm glow, but all she could see were the shadows lurking in the corners of her mind.

Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced down at the screen. Another message from Frank.

"Watch yourself tonight. Things are getting more complicated."

Mae frowned, her fingers tightening around the phone. Frank had been increasingly vague in his messages lately, and it was starting to worry her. He had always been her protector, the one who kept her grounded in the madness of the club, but now even he seemed uncertain.

She quickly typed a response. "What's going on?"

A few moments passed before his reply came through.

"Can't say yet. Just stay alert."

Mae's stomach twisted with unease. She hated the feeling of being kept in the dark, of not knowing what was happening behind the scenes. But she trusted Frank—he had always had her back, and she had to believe he was looking out for her now.

With a sigh, Mae set her phone down and stood up, smoothing out her costume. It was time to get on stage, to put on the mask of Mae and leave Seraphina behind for a while.

But as she made her way toward the stage, she couldn't shake the feeling that tonight would be different. That something was about to change.

The lights hit her as soon as she stepped on stage, the familiar warmth of the spotlight washing over her. The crowd roared in approval, their voices blending into the heavy beat of the music. Mae moved through her routine with practiced ease, her body swaying to the rhythm, her mind slipping into the performance.

But as she danced, her eyes scanned the room, searching for him.

And then, she saw him.

Father Charlie was sitting in the same booth as before, his drink untouched in front of him, his gaze fixed on her. There was something different in his eyes tonight—something more intense, more focused. Mae's pulse quickened as she locked eyes with him, her body moving on autopilot as her mind raced.

Did he know? Was this the moment he would finally recognize her?

She kept dancing, her movements fluid and graceful, but her heart was pounding in her chest. Father Charlie's gaze never left her, and with each passing moment, the tension between them seemed to grow thicker, more palpable.

When the set ended, Mae hurried off stage, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. She needed to get out of here, to escape before things spiraled out of control. But as she made her way through the backstage area, she felt a presence behind her.

She turned around, and there he was—Father Charlie, standing just a few feet away, his eyes filled with something she couldn't quite place.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, neither of them speaking, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Mae's heart raced, her mind spinning with a thousand questions.

Finally, Father Charlie spoke, his voice low and steady.

"I didn't expect to see someone like you here."

Mae swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "Neither did I."

Father Charlie's gaze softened slightly, but there was still an intensity in his eyes that made her stomach twist with unease.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Mae hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. She couldn't tell him the truth—not yet. Not until she knew what he was really after.

"I needed a change," she said finally, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "Life led me here."

Father Charlie nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. "We all need an escape sometimes."

Mae's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words settling heavily on her chest. She wanted to ask him why he had come here, what had driven him to this place, but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, she just stood there, watching him, waiting for the moment when everything would fall apart.

Because Mae knew—deep down—that the past was catching up with her.

And there was no escaping it now

-

The club was buzzing with energy, a typical night at Hell's Angels—dancers moving to the rhythm, the lights flashing in sync with the heavy bass that vibrated through the walls. But Mae felt like she was moving through molasses, her steps heavy, her mind preoccupied with the storm that was about to hit.

Father Charlie knew.

She had seen it in his eyes during their last encounter, the way his expression shifted the moment he looked at her. He had finally recognized her—Seraphina. She had hoped for months that her disguise as Mae would keep her past hidden, that he would never see the girl she used to be behind the makeup, behind the stage persona.

But now, there was no denying it. He knew.

Mae leaned against the cold brick wall just outside the club, the night air biting at her exposed skin as she took in deep, shaky breaths. Her thoughts were scattered, a chaotic jumble of fear, regret, and anger. The encounter with Father Charlie had shaken her to her core, and she wasn't sure what to do next.

Would he confront her? Would he try to convince her to return to the life she had run from? Or worse—would he expose her to the people at the club, to those behind the shadows who already had too much power over her?

She had no idea what he would do now that he knew the truth, and that uncertainty terrified her.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her from her thoughts. Mae fumbled with it, her hands trembling as she saw Frank's name flash across the screen.

"We need to meet. Now."

Mae's pulse quickened as she read the message. Frank had been her lifeline, the one person who had helped her navigate the dangerous waters of Hell's Angels since she'd started working there. But lately, even he seemed shaken by whatever was happening behind the scenes.

Without a second thought, Mae pushed herself off the wall and made her way toward the alley where Frank had said they would meet. Her mind raced as she tried to process the situation. Father Charlie's presence, the mysterious people asking questions about her past—it was all closing in on her faster than she had anticipated.

As she reached the alley, Frank was already there, pacing back and forth, his face tight with tension. He looked up as she approached, his eyes filled with concern.

"Mae," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We have a problem."

"No kidding," Mae replied, her voice edged with frustration. "He knows, Frank. Father Charlie knows who I am."

Frank stopped pacing, his eyes widening in alarm. "What? How? I thought you said he hadn't recognized you."

"I thought he hadn't," Mae muttered, running a hand through her hair. "But I saw it in his eyes. He knows, Frank. He knows I'm Seraphina."

Frank cursed under his breath, his expression darkening. "This complicates everything. If he knows who you are, he could ruin everything."

Mae's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of Frank's words settling heavily over her. "Do you think he'll say anything? Do you think he'll expose me?"

Frank hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting as if he were weighing the possibilities. "Father Charlie... he's a man of principles, but this isn't just about you anymore, Mae. These people—the ones pulling the strings at Hell's Angels—they'll use any leverage they can get. If they find out he knows, they'll go after him, too."

Mae's blood ran cold. The thought of Father Charlie being dragged into the dangerous world she had found herself in was enough to make her stomach churn. She had left the convent to protect herself, to escape a life that no longer felt like hers. But the last thing she wanted was for him to get hurt because of her choices.

"I can't let that happen," Mae said, her voice firm despite the fear twisting inside her. "I need to talk to him. I need to figure out what he's planning to do."

Frank shook his head, his expression grim. "You can't just confront him, Mae. Not without knowing what his next move is. If he's already made up his mind about exposing you—"

"He won't," Mae interrupted, though she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Frank or herself. "He's not like that. He wouldn't put me in danger."

Frank's gaze softened, but there was still a tension in his posture. "Maybe not. But you need to be careful. If Father Charlie is involved, then you're dealing with more than just your past. You're dealing with someone who still has a moral compass. And that makes him unpredictable."

Mae swallowed hard, the knot in her chest tightening. She knew Frank was right. Father Charlie wasn't like the others. He wasn't part of the twisted world of Hell's Angels, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous in his own way. His righteousness, his need to do the right thing—it could destroy everything she had built.

"I'll talk to him," Mae said, her voice steadier now. "I'll make sure he doesn't say anything."

Frank didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "Be careful, Mae. These people—they're watching. And they're waiting for you to slip up."

Mae nodded, though the fear gnawing at her insides made it hard to think clearly. She didn't know what to expect from Father Charlie, but she knew one thing for sure: she couldn't afford to let him blow everything apart.

Later that night, Mae slipped into the dimly lit bar area of Hell's Angels, her eyes scanning the room for Father Charlie. He had been coming here for days now, and she knew he wouldn't be far. Sure enough, she spotted him in his usual booth at the back, his drink sitting untouched in front of him as he stared down at the table, lost in thought.

Her heart pounded as she made her way toward him, her footsteps soft but purposeful. This was it. She needed answers.

As Mae approached the booth, Father Charlie looked up, his eyes locking with hers. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the tension between them thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, he gestured to the seat across from him.

"Sit," he said quietly.

Mae slid into the booth, her hands trembling slightly as she folded them in her lap. She studied his face, searching for any sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

"I know who you are," Father Charlie said after a long moment, his voice low but steady.

Mae's breath caught in her throat. She had expected him to dance around it, to hesitate. But there it was, the truth laid bare between them.

"I figured," Mae replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "How long have you known?"

"Not long," he admitted. "But when I saw you up there... it all came back. The way you move, the way you carry yourself—it's different now, but there's still a part of you I recognize. Seraphina."

The name hung in the air between them, heavy and painful. Mae swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She had tried so hard to leave Seraphina behind, to become someone else, but now it seemed like she could never fully escape who she had been.

"Why are you here?" Mae asked, her voice trembling. "Why did you come looking for me?"

Father Charlie's gaze softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. "I wasn't looking for you, Mae. I didn't even know you were here. But when I found you... I couldn't just walk away."

Mae's heart twisted at his words. Part of her wanted to believe him, to believe that he wasn't here to drag her back to her old life. But another part of her—the part that had been hardened by years of survival—knew better.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Father Charlie looked at her for a long moment before speaking, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

"I want to understand why you left without saying goodbye. Why you became this person. And I want to help you."

Mae's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking in. Help. It was such a simple word, but it felt like an anchor, dragging her back to the life she had tried so hard to escape.

"I don't need your help," she said, her voice firmer now. "I've made my choices. I'm not Seraphina anymore."

Father Charlie's expression didn't waver. "Maybe not. But you're still the same person underneath all of this. And you don't have to do this alone."

Mae stood up abruptly, the walls closing in around her. She couldn't do this. She couldn't let him pull her back into a world where she was powerless, where she was nothing but a shadow of who she had become.

"You don't understand," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You don't know what I've done. What I've had to do."

Father Charlie stood as well, his gaze never leaving hers. "Then tell me."

Mae shook her head, the tears threatening to spill over. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't let him in. Not when everything she had built, everything she had become, was at risk.

Without another word, Mae turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know what Father Charlie's next move would be, but one thing was clear.

The past was no longer something she could outrun.

And now, it was right on her heels