Chapter 5 — Don't Look Back
The sun burned high in the sky, glowing like a golden lion watching over the city. Heat shimmered off the pavement, clinging to people's skin, making shirts stick and patience thin.
Emma and Aya walked side by side in their school uniforms—royal blue, white, and black—ice creams already melting in their hands. Around them, students laughed, talked, shoved one another playfully. The sound of freedom after school filled the street.
"Same time tomorrow?" one of the girls asked.
Emma nodded. "Yeah—but today I'm going to Aya's place."
Goodbyes followed, and soon the crowd thinned as Emma and Aya headed toward the quieter streets leading to the Morning-Star estate.
"It's way too hot to train today," Aya muttered.
Emma laughed. "Yeah. My brain checked out hours ago."
They walked in silence for a moment.
Then—Aya slowed.
Her eyes shifted, not focusing on anything specific, but on everything around them.
Emma noticed.
"You okay?"
Aya hesitated. "…Do you ever get the feeling you're being watched?"
Emma blinked. "Like… right now?"
Aya nodded slowly.
"I train my telekinesis to detect movement," she said. "Not just objects—patterns. Disruptions. Pressure changes. I do it at school. On the way home. Everywhere."
Emma glanced around. People passed constantly—students, workers, strangers weaving through the crowd.
"There's like a hundred people here," Emma said.
"I know," Aya replied. "That's the problem."
Her voice dropped. "Today feels the same as before. Like something's following us… hiding inside the crowd."
Emma swallowed. "You sure?"
"No," Aya admitted quietly. "And that scares me more."
They kept walking.
Trying to change the mood, Emma said, "Your mom can read minds, right?"
Aya stopped dead.
"What?" Emma asked quickly. "I—I mean, can you do that too?"
Aya's eyes widened in panic. "No. No—don't say that."
She exhaled sharply. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap."
"It's okay," Emma said softly. "I didn't know."
Aya hesitated, then spoke anyway.
"Telekinesis is considered the most powerful mutation," she said. "They studied it. A lot."
Her voice lowered. "There's a pattern."
Emma listened closely.
"Three things usually happen to telekinetics," Aya said.
"One—they die. Their bodies can't handle the mutation."
"Two—they lose control."
She paused.
"And three… they kill themselves."
Emma's breath caught. "Why?"
"Because they can't turn it off," Aya said quietly.
"Especially the ones who hear thoughts. Imagine hearing everyone. All the time. Lies. Fear. Hate."
She swallowed. "It breaks people."
"…Did that almost happen to you?" Emma asked.
Aya nodded. "When I was little. I was lucky. My mom is a telekinetic too. She saved me."
"She refuses to read minds," Aya continued. "Personal rules. Boundaries. Privacy."
She glanced at Emma. "I follow the same rules. So does my mom."
Emma nodded. "I'm sorry."
Aya smiled faintly. "It's okay. You didn't know."
Emma shifted topics.
"Your dad," she said. "Why does he always look so tired?"
Aya slowed. "He was born in a time when mutation humans were treated even worse than now. Back then, hope was dangerous."
Emma listened.
"He wanted a world where mutation humans and normal humans could live equally," Aya said. "Same rights. Same safety."
Her smile faded. "But when you try to change the world… you don't get applause. You get wars."
They talked about school after that. About teachers. About normal things. Laughter returned—
but it never reached the shadows watching them.
THE WATCHER
From a narrow alley, half-swallowed by darkness, a woman followed.
Lady Moon moved like silence itself, never close enough to be seen, never far enough to lose sight of Emma.
At the gates of the Morning-Star estate, a security guard leaned casually against the railing. Slim. Strong. Relaxed to the point of looking careless.
His name tag read: BRUNO.
Emma and Aya passed through the gate. Bruno waved them in.
Then he paused.
Something felt wrong.
He stepped closer to a nearby tree, eyes narrowing.
Behind it, Lady Moon held her breath.
This school is full of mutation kids, she thought. Teachers too. A fight here would be loud. And loud brings attention.
Bruno looked behind the tree.
Nothing.
"Huh," he muttered, returning to his post.
Lady Moon vanished deeper into the shadows.
LADY MOON — ANALYSIS
Hidden between buildings, Lady Moon whispered into a recorder.
"Emma attends school Monday to Friday. Arrival at seven. Leaves at one-thirty. Stays with Aya from two-thirty to six-thirty."
She paused.
"Sports some days. Soccer. Swimming. Cheerleading."
"Weekends—almost always with Aya."
She shut the recorder off.
"I can't take her when she's with Aya," she muttered. "Telekinesis. One scream and the cops arrive. Or worse—Mr. Morning-Star."
Her eyes hardened.
"And if that detective Roman is involved…"
She shook her head. "Bad news."
Footsteps echoed.
Men in suits appeared.
Mafia armbands.
Her gaze locked on one man.
Mr. Rat.
Beside him stood Mr. Clearn, calm and composed. Others followed, armed.
Disgust crossed Lady Moon's face.
She raised her Moon Gun—steady, silent—aimed directly at Mr. Rat's head.
The hunt had begun.
THE CLASH
The alley was narrow and dark.
Lady Moon stood motionless, gun trained on Mr. Rat.
"The boss sent us to help you," Mr. Rat said calmly.
"Emma's with Morning-Star. Working together improves our odds."
"I don't need a rat," Lady Moon replied coldly.
"If you hurt me," Mr. Rat warned, "you start a war."
Lady Moon smiled beneath her mask.
"The boss called this a game," she said.
"Eighty thousand for whoever catches Emma. And I have permission to hurt anyone in my way."
Silence.
Mr. Rat laughed. "Then boys—get her."
Gunfire erupted.
Lady Moon moved instantly, stone forming beneath her feet into jagged steps. Bullets shattered them as she vaulted to the rooftop.
"They're trying to trap me," she realized.
She kept running.
Below, Mr. Rat watched from his car.
"She's good," he muttered.
Sirens began to wail.
Detective Division — Late Afternoon
The room smelled of stale coffee and paper.
Detective Roman leaned against the table, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the crime board in front of him. Photos, red string, names, locations.
At the center:
LADY MOON.
Beside it:
ACE.
"So," Roman said, breaking the silence, "she's back."
Detective Don rubbed his face. "Never really left. Just went quiet."
Roman pointed at a photo showing frozen pavement and shattered stone.
"That's not a street-level criminal. That's precision."
Don nodded. "And discipline."
The door opened.
A woman stepped in—short brown hair, sharp eyes, calm posture. She wore her badge like she didn't need to prove anything.
"This is Detective Kate Arrows," Don said. "Transferred from the capital."
Kate scanned the board without a word.
"So that's Lady Moon," she said finally. "And Ace."
Roman turned. "You know them?"
"I chased Ace for three years," Kate replied. "Never caught him. He doesn't make mistakes."
She tapped Lady Moon's photo.
"But she does."
Roman raised an eyebrow.
Kate continued, "She's emotional. Careful—but emotional. That makes her dangerous."
Don sighed. "Great."
Kate turned to Roman. "You're the one who ran into her before, right?"
Roman's jaw tightened. "She let me live."
Kate studied him. "Then she has rules."
"She's not just a thief," Roman said. "She's hunting something."
Kate nodded slowly. "Or someone."
She picked up another photo—Emma.
Kate froze.
"This girl," she said. "Why is she connected?"
Roman exchanged a look with Don.
"Because everyone dangerous is circling her," Roman said quietly.
"And when predators move at the same time… someone gets taken."
Kate crossed her arms.
"Then we're late."
Don straightened. "Chief wants results. Public's already nervous. Moon. Ace. Mafia movement. Too many moving parts."
Kate looked back at Lady Moon's photo.
"She's not alone," Kate said. "And she's not done."
Roman nodded.
"And neither are we."THE FACTORY
Lady Moon landed silently in front of the abandoned factory.
Cracked concrete. Rusted steel. Broken windows like empty eyes.
Perfect.
No civilians.
No cameras.
No witnesses that mattered.
She stood still—not catching her breath, not rushing. Listening.
Footsteps came first. Heavy. Disorganized. Exhausted.
The mafia spilled into the open space moments later, shoulders heaving, sweat pouring down their faces. Guns raised—but hands shaking.
Lady Moon hadn't broken stride once.
She lifted her Moon Gun.
The shots came fast—but never lethal.
A wrist. A knee. A shoulder.
Metal clattered to the ground as guns slipped from numb fingers. Men screamed and collapsed, pain blooming without death. She didn't linger. Didn't enjoy it.
Control, she reminded herself.
You lose control, you lose the hunt.
They rushed her.
That was their mistake.
She moved through them like water—short strikes, bone-deep precision. An elbow crushed breath. A sweep dropped a man hard. A kick dislocated a shoulder cleanly.
She wasn't fighting them.
She was clearing the board.
Then—
Tires screamed.
A black car slid to a stop.
Lady Moon turned calmly.
Mr. Rat stepped out first, smiling like this was entertainment. Mr. Clearn followed, composed. And then—
Mr. Ox.
Lady Moon's eyes narrowed.
So this is how you plan to slow me down.
"Oy," Mr. Rat called lazily. "Ox—get her."
Ox didn't hesitate.
He charged like a battering ram.
Lady Moon barely had time to pivot before his hand closed around her—and hurled her straight through the factory wall.
Concrete exploded outward.
Dust filled the air.
She rolled once. Twice. Came up instantly.
No panic.
No wasted motion.
Ox charged again.
This time, she let him.
At the last second, she leapt—landing on his back, legs locking in place like a rider mounting a wild beast.
Ox roared, slamming into walls, machinery, pillars—anything to shake her off.
Lady Moon adjusted. Shifted her weight. Used him.
A strike to the neck. Pressure behind the ear. A twist that redirected his momentum.
Ox staggered.
One final movement—clean, calculated—
He collapsed face-first into the concrete.
Out cold.
Lady Moon stepped back, breathing steady.
Then—
Mr. Rat's phone rang.
He answered, listening. And then his grin widened.
"Emma's on the move," he said casually. "Walking with Aya."
Lady Moon froze.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Her fingers tightened around the Moon Gun.
Mr. Rat snapped his fingers. "Everyone—go."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Police.
Mr. Rat didn't even look at her as he got back into the car. Engines roared. The mafia disappeared into the city like rats fleeing fire.
Lady Moon turned—
And saw him.
Roman.
Police lights flooded the factory, red and blue washing over broken bodies and shattered concrete. Officers shouted orders. Weapons raised.
Roman stood still.
Their eyes met.
Lady Moon felt it immediately.
He's different.
Not reckless.
Not arrogant.
Watching. Measuring.
Mandy's voice echoed in her head from the last chapter.
"Roman doesn't chase criminals. He understands them."
Lady Moon's jaw tightened beneath her mask.
So you're the one she warned me about.
Roman's gaze sharpened.
Recognition.
Not of her face—but of her method.
"Lady Moon," he said quietly, more observation than accusation.
For the first time since the hunt began, Lady Moon felt something close to respect.
If anyone pieces this together… it'll be you.
She couldn't let him get closer.
Moonlight bent beneath her feet.
The air shimmered as her power answered her will.
A glowing moon horse formed midair, hooves touching nothing, mane flowing like liquid light.
Roman took one step forward.
Too late.
Lady Moon mounted in a single smooth motion.
"Next time," she thought, eyes locked on him,
"we won't be on opposite sides by accident."
The horse leapt.
And she vanished into the sky—leaving Roman standing beneath the fading glow, more certain than ever.
This wasn't over.
THE ABDUCTION
The street was quiet.
Too quiet.
The sun was already sinking, washing the houses in orange light. Most people were inside now. Doors closed. Curtains drawn. No traffic. No voices.
Aya slowed her steps.
That feeling was back.
Not sound. Not sight.
Pressure.
Like the air itself was leaning toward them.
"Emma," Aya said softly, her voice tight. "Stay close."
Emma frowned. "Aya… what's wrong?"
"I've been training my telekinesis differently," Aya whispered. "Not lifting things. Feeling intent. Movement before it happens."
Her fingers twitched at her side.
"Someone's watching us."
Before Emma could respond—
A black BMW rolled to a stop directly in front of them.
The engine purred.
The doors opened.
Men stepped out. Calm. Well-dressed. Too confident for a quiet street.
Aya moved instantly, stepping in front of Emma, one arm raised. The air around her bent—dust lifting slightly, stones trembling as invisible pressure gathered.
"Go away," Aya shouted. "Now."
A man stepped forward, smiling.
Mr. Rat.
"Aya Morning-Star," he said calmly. "Sixteen years old. Telekinetic. Still learning."
His eyes slid past her—locking onto Emma.
"But I'm not here for you."
Aya's jaw tightened. "You're not taking her."
Mr. Rat sighed, almost bored. "Emma," he said gently, "come with me."
Emma shook her head, backing away.
Mr. Rat reached forward.
Aya reacted.
She thrust her hand out, and the air slammed into him, hurling him into the side of the car with a sharp metallic crash. The BMW rocked violently.
Emma gasped.
The other men raised their guns—not firing, but aiming.
Aya's breathing turned uneven. Blood trickled from her nose as the strain mounted.
"You're strong," Mr. Rat said, straightening slowly. His smile was gone now. "But strength without control is just noise."
He lifted his hand slightly.
"Clearn," he said. "Disable her. Don't kill her."
A sharp crack split the air.
Pain exploded through Aya's legs. Her focus shattered.
The pressure vanished instantly.
Aya collapsed to the ground with a cry, her body refusing to respond.
"No—!" Emma screamed, dropping beside her.
Mr. Rat moved fast.
He grabbed Emma's wrist and dragged her toward the car. Emma fought—scratching, pulling—but he was stronger.
Aya forced herself to look up.
The car door slammed shut.
The BMW hesitated—just for a second.
Aya focused through the pain.
Not force.
Not power.
Memory.
Her eyes locked onto the license plate.
AFS 034.
The car lurched forward and disappeared down the street.
Aya let out a broken breath.
With the last of her strength, she reached outward—not with telekinesis, but with thought.
Mom.
Emma is gone. I'm hurt. Please—
The world went dark.
AFTERMATH
Aya woke to pain and silence.
She lay on the pavement, shaking, her legs burning. Sirens wailed in the distance—too far away.
Then footsteps.
"Aya!"
Her mother's voice cracked as Dr. Morning-Star dropped to her knees beside her, hands shaking despite years of control. Mr. Morning-Star stood behind her, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles bled.
"They took her," Aya whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Emma… they took her."
Dr. Morning-Star pressed her forehead gently against Aya's, fury trembling beneath her calm.
"Who?" she demanded.
"A black BMW," Aya said weakly. "Plate… AFS zero three four. I made sure to remember."
Her eyes fluttered.
Then she passed out.
Dr. Morning-Star stood slowly.
Her expression changed.
Cold. Focused. Controlled.
She turned toward the nearest news crew arriving at the scene. The reporters froze mid-step as invisible pressure wrapped gently—but firmly—around them.
Their eyes glazed slightly.
"Listen carefully," Dr. Morning-Star said, her voice calm and absolute.
"You will report exactly what happened."
BREAKING NEWS
Within the hour, every screen in the city lit up
BREAKING NEWS:
Sixteen-year-old Emma Victoria has been kidnapped.
Suspects linked to organized crime.
A man known as Mr. Rat is believed responsible.
Vehicle: Black BMW RS3
License Plate: AFS 034
The reporters spoke flawlessly.
Truth delivered with precision.
THE DETECTIVES
Roman stood in front of the screen, unmoving.
Don crossed his arms, jaw tight. "This isn't random."
Kate's eyes darkened. "No. This is calculated."
Roman exhaled slowly. "He picked the wrong family."
The screen flickered—but Dr. Morning-Star did not appear.
Instead, Roman felt it.
A pressure behind his eyes. Not painful. Not invasive. Precise.
A voice—not heard, but understood.
My daughter protected her friend, Dr. Morning-Star said, calm and steady. She did exactly what I trained her to do.
Roman straightened slightly, recognizing the signature of controlled telekinesis. This
wasn't panic.
It was intention.
Emma has been taken by organized crime, the voice continued. This was planned. Careful. Ruthless.
Images followed the words—brief, sharp flashes.
A black BMW.
A license plate.
AFS 034.
I am not asking out of fear, Dr. Morning-Star said. I am asking because this is now larger than my family.
There was a pause.
Find Mr rat, she added. He is already moving. He cant get away form this.
Roman exhaled slowly.
Aloud, he said, "Understood.""
Outside, the city held its breath.
And somewhere, Mr. Rat smiled—
unaware that every step he took from this moment forward was being counted
Dr Morning-Star under her breath talking to Roman
Emma need Ace