Sadie
I went home in a black car with tinted windows, a silent, imposing man in the driver's seat. He dropped me off at my building, and I walked up the stairs, my key already in my hand. I felt a strange sense of calm. The frantic fear that had consumed me just an hour ago was gone, replaced by a deep, unwavering faith that Zane would keep his promise. I was in his world now, and he had promised to protect me from the shadows. I went to bed, a strange smile on my face, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of sirens blaring outside my window. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. I looked out, and my breath caught in my throat. The beat-up brown sedan was still there, but it was surrounded by police cars. The area was cordoned off with yellow tape, and a group of officers in uniform were talking to a man in a black suit. It was the same man I had seen with Zane the night he had taken me to the penthouse. He was holding a file, and he was talking to the police chief.
A couple of officers approached the sedan, their faces grim. They looked inside, their eyes wide with disbelief. A woman, a reporter from the local news, was standing on the corner, her microphone in her hand.
"Sources say a man, a repeat offender, has been apprehended after a failed attempt to abduct a young woman," she said, her voice clear and crisp. "The man, whose identity has not yet been released, was found unconscious in his car, with a file detailing his surveillance of the woman. It is said that the file was somehow handed over to the police, with no trace of who provided it."
I leaned against my window, my hands trembling. The man I had seen walking his dog, the man who had been a source of so much fear and paranoia, was now being hauled away in handcuffs. The beat-up sedan, his pathetic little attempt at a stalking operation, was now a crime scene. A small, triumphant smile played on my lips. Zane had handled it. Just as he had said he would. He had made the threat disappear with the same chilling efficiency he had used on Bill Collins.
I walked to the bathroom, and as I looked in the mirror, I saw the woman I was becoming. My eyes, once so wide and innocent, were now a darker, more knowing shade. My lips, which had been so quick to tremble, were now a firm, determined line. I had stepped into the shadows, and I was learning to live there. And the most terrifying part of all? I was beginning to like it.