7
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ZANE STEPPED OUTSIDE, the cool evening air brushing against his skin as he peeled off the forensic suit. His eyes swept across the narrow street, but Raine and the car had vanished without a trace.

The houses stood tightly packed, front yards no bigger than a few steps wide, each hemmed in by neat patches of Bermuda grass. He moved past the small green gate, its hinges squeaking faintly, and onto the narrow road, which stretched ahead in silence, leading to a busier two-way street beyond the quiet neighbourhood.

"Looking for Ms. de Verra, are you?" Mr. Mendez's voice cut through the stillness as he approached Zane. Standing by the open gate, the guard had kept watch over the nearby street, his brown eyes settling on Zane with mild curiosity.

"Uh... yes," Zane confirmed, glancing around as if hoping she'd reappear.

"She already left. Probably headed home," Mr. Mendez replied, his voice steady, as he folded his arms.

"The woman in the car parked there earlier? Where is she?" Zane asked, gesturing toward the now-vacant spot.

"Doctor Ferrer already left for the hospital. She's on duty tonight," Mr. Mendez confirmed.

"Great," Zane muttered under his breath, hands sliding into his pockets as his eyes continued to sweep the area. "I don't know much about this place." Just as the man was about to return to his post, he quickly seized the chance for help. "Is there... a nearby terminal? Even just a tricycle ride would be of much help."

Mr. Mendez turned back with a faint nod. "There's a tricycle terminal about five minutes down the road. Just head left after the one-way road."

"Thanks," Zane said, offering a small smile.

"Where do you live?" Mr. Mendez asked.

"At..." Zane hesitated, his mind drawing a blank on the name of his aunt's neighbourhood. But then, a familiar detail surfaced. "Clara's Coffee Café."

"Ah, Clara's Coffee Café. That's not far at all," Mr. Mendez replied with a knowing nod. "Just a few minutes by ride. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes if you go that way."

Zane raised an eyebrow as Mendez continued, "If you prefer a tricycle, just walk down this one-way road, you'll pass a church on the way. After that, turn slightly to the left. The terminal is close."

"Got it, thanks," Zane replied, relieved.

"Are you new around here?" Mr. Mendez asked, his smile warm and kind.

"Yes," Zane answered quietly, his voice betraying his unease.

"Nice to meet you," Mendez said with a friendly nod before heading back to his post. "Take care, alright?"

Zane stood there, caught between a feeling of unfamiliarity and the odd comfort the town offered. He wasn't sure whether to be afraid or simply adjust to the strange sense of belonging creeping in.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he whispered, "I need you now more than ever." His thumb hovered over the screen. "With my companion gone, I'm counting on you. This road... it could be dangerous for me."

The fading daylight left a dim haze on the road as the streetlights flickered to life, casting long shadows across the pavement. It was only half past five, yet the streets were growing emptier with each passing moment.

Zane quickened his pace, nearly at the vehicle station when a faint bell chimed from a nearby building beside the church. His eyes landed on a sign just outside: "Charging Station." The sound drew him in, a small burst of relief washing over him.

"That's exactly what I need," he muttered under his breath, a spark of determination lighting up his tired steps. Without hesitation, he stepped into the minimart.

The bell jingled softly as Zane approached the charging station by the glass door. A simple machine, its coin slot glaringly requested five pesos, but as he patted his pockets, he realized he was out of luck. No coins, no cash.

"Great. No ride home, no charged phone," he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "D*mn, this is so annoying!"

Just as he was about to stow his phone back in his pocket, a hand gently took it from his grip. Startled, he looked up to see a woman, her expression calm, plugging the phone into the port without a word. The soft hum of the charging phone was the only sound between them.

Zane managed to mumble a faint "Thank you" before his world began to tilt, darkness closing in rapidly. His surroundings blurred, and the soft voices of concerned passersby seemed to drift further and further away, becoming nothing more than murmurs in the distance.

As his vision faded, the woman in the pink hoodie and matching glasses turned her attention towards a sleek black car parked discreetly nearby. With a swift motion, she signaled to someone inside, her expression unreadable. The door of the car opened, and the shadowy figure within stepped out, moving towards Zane's now limp form.

"Oh my!" she exclaimed, a note of concern in her voice. "My brother must have drunk too much again. I'd better take him home before that aswang claims him as one of its victims."

The man she referred to stepped closer, preparing to lift Zane over his shoulders, when the minimart owner interjected. "Excuse me, Miss. Do you really know this person?" she asked, stepping away from the counter to stand before the trio, curiosity etched on her face as the few remaining shoppers turned their attention toward them.

"Of course!" she replied, a grin spreading across her face. "Zane Nuñez, 30, with a mole on his right shoulder. He even has the blue phone I gave him, with a guitar as his lock screen and a picture of a landscape from Switzerland."

The minimart owner raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from suspicion to intrigue. "And you're sure he's your brother?"

"Yes! We grew up together!" the woman insisted, her voice filled with confidence. "He's just a bit under the weather tonight, that's all." She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as if sizing up the owner. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets home safely."

Zane remained oblivious, lost in the fog of unconsciousness as the two women exchanged wary glances, the man shifting his weight impatiently, awaiting their decision.

"Are you sure?" the owner asked, her brow furrowing in doubt.

"Why don't you go and check for yourself?" the woman replied kindly. "I wouldn't mind."

With a hesitant glance at each other, the owner and her husband approached Zane. They leaned in, inspecting the mole on his right shoulder, and then glanced at the blue phone. They confirmed the lock screen was indeed as she described, but since a pattern was needed to unlock it, they couldn't see the home screen.

"Do you know the password?" the owner's husband inquired, his tone skeptical.

The woman smiled and took the phone from him. With a few swift swipes, she unlocked it, revealing the landscape image on the home screen. "Believe me now?" she asked, her grin widening.

The couple exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from suspicion to reluctant acceptance. They returned the phone to the woman, nodding in understanding. "Take care," they said, watching as she and the man carefully lifted Zane and began to walk down the road, his weight resting between them.

Time passed, and Zane's eyes finally fluttered open, drawn to a bright light ahead. He struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, the brightness overwhelming.

“Good morning, Mr Nuñez.”

A hazy figure loomed before him, gradually sharpening as he blinked away the glare. “I’m sorry it had to come to this,” the mysterious woman said. “And don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I know it’s meant to be good evening.”

"W-Who are you?" Zane managed to croak out, squinting to make sense of his surroundings. After a few blinks, her playful smile sharpened into clarity. She was seated in front of him on a wooden chair with no armrests, her attire simple yet striking.

"Let's just say that I'm always watching," she replied cryptically.

Zane tried to sit up, but the heaviness in his limbs reminded him of his earlier ordeal. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You're safe," she assured him, leaning forward slightly. "For now, that's all you need to know."

Zane felt a rush of confusion and urgency. "But I was at the minimart..."

As his senses returned, a sense of unease settled over him. He sat before her, hands resting on his lap, trying to suppress the unease creeping in. "What do you want from me? I have nothing to give you. I don't have money!" His heart pounded, yet his body remained oddly calm.

"I know you don't have money, Zane. Or rather, not much, considering your financial struggles," she remarked.

Her eyes were fixed on him with the intensity of her gaze feeling as though it penetrated his very being. No matter how hard he tried to look away, his eyes would always return to meet hers, drawn in by a force he couldn't quite comprehend.

"Don't worry, your phone is in your pocket now, and it has a little charge," she assured him, still wearing that enigmatic smile, as if she held all the answers to questions he hadn't yet asked.

Slowly, Zane lowered his hands, feeling the reassuring weight of the phone tucked in his slacks pocket. "If you don't breathe a word about this, I won't hesitate to call the police," he warned, gripping the device tightly, ready to act.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind," she replied, her tone calm, almost dismissive. "What do you know about Lorraine?"

"Lorraine de Verra?" he asked, skepticism lacing his voice.

"Yes, that's her," the woman confirmed, crossing one leg over the other with an air of nonchalance.

"I barely know her," Zane admitted. "We met a while ago. Why do you ask? What do you want from her?"

"But you're sharing a flat with her, right?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if gauging his reaction.

"What if I am?" he challenged, feeling the tension in the room thicken. "What's it to you?"

"Just curious," she said with a playful smile. "Your lives seem to be intertwining in ways you might not fully understand. There are forces at play here, Zane, and it's vital you remain aware."

"Sounds dramatic," he scoffed, though a part of him wondered if there was truth in her words.

"So, it's official," she remarked, her earlier smile replaced by a sympathetic expression. Breaking eye contact, she turned her attention to their surroundings. "So soon after the last one," she added with a sigh.

"Did she have any previous flatmates?" Zane inquired with a sense of urgency nagging at him.

"She had... a few," she replied, shifting her posture and fixing her gaze back on him, her expression difficult to decipher.

"What happened to them? Where are they now?" he pressed, eager for any insight into this troubling situation.

"Let's just say they were cowards," the woman answered. "How about you, Professor Zane Nuñez? Are you a coward too?"

Zane swallowed hard, a knot forming in his stomach. "Why-- How can you say they became cowards?"

With a flick of her wrist, she beckoned to her right. The man who had escorted Zane stepped forward like a shadow that came to life. He approached, handing her an envelope before slipping back into the shadows of the building.

"Perhaps they realized the danger they were in," she continued. "They understood that ignorance could lead to a fate worse than death."

She held out the envelope, her hand steady, the faint rustle of the white paper breaking the silence. His brow furrowed as he hesitated, eyes flicking between her unreadable expression and the object she offered. “What’s this?” he asked.

"A little something, Mr. Nuñez. I know your family will be pleased," she replied, her mysterious smile unwavering.

His breath hitched, and a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. The room seemed to close in around him as his gaze fixed on the envelope. A tremor coursed through his fingers as though they moved of their own accord, inching forward until they hovered just above the outstretched offering. Disbelief etched itself into his features, yet he couldn’t stop himself from taking it.

"Take it. It's your first reward," she urged.

The coarse edge of the envelope grazed his fingertips, sending a jolt through him like a sudden chill. Zane’s hand recoiled, his pulse quickening as clarity cut through the fog of uncertainty. His jaw tightened, and his voice sharpened like a blade. “What are you doing? Who are you?” he demanded, shoving the envelope back toward her.

"She calls me her greatest rival," she confessed, her voice steady. "But don't worry, it only exists in her mind, especially when she's unwilling to accept the presence of someone."

"And what do I owe in return for whatever's inside the envelope?" Zane inquired cautiously.

"You'll simply provide me with information about her activities," she explained, leaning back in her chair with a calm demeanour.

"Why?" he pressed. "What do you want with her?"

"As I said, she prefers not to acknowledge my existence. I require insights from the one she's always with," she elucidated. "This young lady is already at the peak of her life."

Zane, steadfast in his role as a societal model, wrestled with an inner conflict. His ethical beliefs surged to the forefront, refusing to be ignored. He had no desire to be entangled in anything that might pull him from the safety of his comfort zone.

"Don't you want it?" she pressed, her voice smooth, almost enticing.

He mustered a hesitant smile, aware of the tempting offer. The idea of money felt risky, and he had no desire to become embroiled in any situation that could disrupt his carefully maintained life.

"Who really are you? And how do you know all this?" Zane asked, brow furrowing in suspicion.

"I told you, I'm always there to watch," she replied. "Consider the consequences of your actions, Professor. Think about all the things you could accomplish once you accept my offer. Plus, no one will even know."

A deep breath escaped Zane's nostrils as he bit his lower lip in confusion, his hands fidgeting on his lap. "Well, alright. Give me some time to consider your offer," he said finally, unsure if he truly wanted to engage in this dangerous game. The woman rose, slipping the envelope into her coat pocket with practiced ease.

"My companion will escort you home to your flat. Liberty Street, right?" she asked, her tone casual.

Zane nodded slowly. "Yes, that's right."

The man reappeared, the sharp lines of his black tuxedo and dark glasses exuding an aura of detached precision. The night pressed against the windows, but his voice cut through the stillness with a flat command: “Let’s go.”

Zane hesitated for a moment, caught between instincts of caution and a desire to escape the tense atmosphere of the previous encounter. Ultimately, he knew he had no choice but to comply. Yet, he remained acutely aware of his surroundings, determined to stay vigilant as they moved toward the car.

Once inside, the silence felt heavy, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts racing through Zane's mind. The vehicle pulled away from the private garage, merging into the dimly lit streets. As he sat there, lost in contemplation, his phone vibrated, breaking the stillness.

He fished it out of his pocket, surprised to find it had come back to life. The screen illuminated with a new message from an unknown number:

This is Raine. I don't know if you remember the long name you mentioned earlier.
-L.A.V.

"How the heck did you even do that?" Zane asked, trying to pierce through the heavy silence that filled the vehicle.

The man in the front seat flicked his gaze to the rear view mirror, his expression unchanging as he focused on Zane. "Who are you talking to?" he inquired.

"It turns out that your target is sending me messages now. I wonder how she even knows my number," Zane replied, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone.

Just as he finished speaking, his phone vibrated again, illuminating the screen with another message:

Hurry up. Go home! It's important!

A vague unease crept over him, an itch at the back of his mind he couldn’t scratch. He frowned, his gaze unfocused as he stared out the window, the world beyond blurring with his thoughts. “Who are you, Raine de Verra?” he muttered, the words barely a whisper.

The car slowed, and he glanced outside, noting they had arrived at Mrs. Nuñez’s building. A rush of relief mingled with apprehension, tightening his chest. He longed to return, yet the shadows of doubt stretched ever longer, clouding his thoughts.

As he stepped out of the car, the familiar surroundings felt both comforting and ominous. Before he could collect his thoughts, another message chimed in on his phone. He glanced at the screen, his stomach tightening as he noticed a smiley emoji accompanying the text.

Every minute counts! 🙂