CHAPTER 11
MIA
Zane decided I’d be “better off” staying with his friend Carter while he was at the convention. Bottom line? He sucked all the fun out of my day. It’s not like I was planning to kill anyone—maybe just seriously injure them.
But at least he got the message with that girl. And the others. I’ve been going with him to the studio almost every day, but today’s a big event, and I’ve decided I don’t feel like it.
Now, I have a glorified babysitter. Enter Carter. His sole mission? Making sure I don’t do anything.
Our kiss, however, feels like a fever dream, like one of my delusions. Maybe I really did imagine the whole thing. Because he hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t even looked at me the same way. Instead, he’s kept his distance, as if I might break him.
And I know it’s not fear of dying. We’ve moved past that. It’s something else. Something I can’t quite decipher.
And honestly? I don’t like to share. We can work out the rest later.
I’ve been in Los Angeles for almost two weeks now, and I feel like I’m figuring out how these people work. Quickly.
The voices are still there, but they don’t drown me like they used to. I haven’t had any reality-altering episodes. I’ve never felt as clear or steady as I do now. And that terrifies me.
No tightness in my chest. No hollowness eating me alive.
I’m okay.
I like it here. Maybe more than I’ve ever liked anywhere I’ve been before. And I know, technically, I’m a lost person to my father. He told me if that ever happened, I had to find my way back.
But I don’t want to. I want to stay.
Even that tight, caged feeling I get in crowded places has been easing, little by little. I like waking up and having my waffles. I like when Zane takes me out to eat somewhere new.
And I like coloring.
Zane laughed when he caught me sketching, but he still bought me a notebook filled with characters and a ridiculous amount of colored pencils. So that’s mostly what I do when I’m home. I tried making waffles on my own once. Almost burned the apartment down. Zane made me swear I wouldn’t try cooking when he wasn’t around.
I might just do it because I think he looks cute when he frowns, especially when he's distressed.
Carter lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping against the couch like his entire existence has been reduced to this moment. The irritation radiating off him is almost comical.
“Have you ever had a real burger?” he asks, his tone thick with disinterest, like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.
I lift my head slowly, giving him a blank stare. Did he just ask me if I’ve ever breathed air? I know he’s trying to get under my skin, but I don’t understand why.
“Yes, I have,” I lie. Zane and I haven’t gone for one yet, and Paulina never let me eat them. “But please, continue explaining the concept of food to me. I’m fascinated.”
Carter’s jaw twitches, clearly irritated by my sarcasm. “You have no idea how much I’d rather be somewhere else right now.”
“The feeling is mutual. Get lost.” I pick up a red pencil and drag it across my sketchbook, feigning interest. Carter is insufferable, but what really pisses me off is not understanding why he’s acting like this.
Zane and I are fine.
And Zane is mine.
Carter doesn’t seem to like that.
I’ve seen it before—girls in the brothels, whispering, plotting, when another girl had a client they wanted for themselves. The silent war of possession. The way their eyes flickered with jealousy right before they attacked.
Carter’s looking at me like that. Like he’s going to attack.
I’d love to see him try.
“I don’t understand why Zane puts up with you,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
The snap of my notebook closing is sharp, slicing through the tension in the room. I meet his gaze head-on, voice cold as steel.
“I was wondering the same thing about you.”
He laughs, but it’s not amused—it’s mean, condescending. The kind of laugh that says he thinks he’s already won.
He steps closer, crossing his arms, that smirk still etched onto his face. “You really think you’re special just because he’s protecting you, don’t you? You have no idea how much he carries because of you. And when you inevitably fuck it up, I’ll be here to clean up the mess—like always.”
“I never asked him to carry anything.” My voice is steady, sharper than I expect. But then I tilt my head, studying him. “But now that you mention it, you must love the idea of replacing me.”
Carter’s smirk falters, just for a second. But I see it. And that? That makes me smile.
"Please, my place is already secured. You're the foreign body trying to invade," Carter said with a smirk.
"Really?" I teased. "So, Carter, have you ever touched him? Ever made him feel his breath hitch just by being too close?"
"You know better," he responded. "Zane only touches people he fucks—that's it. He’s not one for physical contact with anyone."
Interesting. Because I could have sworn that the Zane from just a few days ago, kissing me, would have a different opinion on that. But I decided to keep this little secret to myself. I liked knowing that I was the only one who held that part of him.
He snorted, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m only here because he asked me to be. Make no mistake, I don’t care one bit what you do with your life.”
"Oh, sure," I said, standing up from the couch to face him head-on. "Because spending the day annoying me is clearly your ideal Tuesday afternoon plan."
“What a surprise. You know the days of the week. There’s something you know after all.”
My hand gripped the colored pencil tightly.
This guy really didn’t know when to stop. He was like a jealous guard dog. You can’t kill him, Mia. Zane would be sad.
I knew he was bothered by Zane caring about me, but this childish tantrum was going too far.
Before I could muster a sharp retort, the apartment door opened, and to my relief, Zane walked in. He wore that easy, confident smile that always made my stomach turn, but when he saw Carter, his expression shifted to something more… curious. He could sense the tension in the air.
“What did I miss?” Zane asked casually, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.
Carter pulled away from me, almost like he'd been caught red-handed. “Nothing,” he and I said simultaneously, but the discomfort was evident.
Zane didn’t look convinced, but he let it go with a shrug. He moved toward me, his expression unreadable—casual, like he hadn’t just clocked the tension in the room. Then, as if nothing had happened, he smirked. “Hey, Gorgeous.”
I instantly relaxed. Carter, on the other hand, looked uncomfortable, which gave me a rather perverse satisfaction. But what really made Carter frown—like, unbelievably so—was the way Zane bent down and kissed my forehead. It was so gentle, so simple.
I was surprised, because he started it. Almost as if he sensed how Carter’s presence made me feel insecure, and was trying to reassure me.
Am I crazy? This man wouldn't even admit he’s mine, and now he’s kissing my forehead?
"I hope Carter kept you company," Zane said with a wry smile, as though he knew exactly what had been going on.
I let out a low laugh. "Oh, yes. It was... enlightening."
Carter grumbled something under his breath, but before he could leave, Zane stopped him.
"You stay," Zane said, his voice firm but with that amused tone. "Actually, I was thinking we should go out today. You come too."
The look of panic in Carter's eyes was priceless. "I don't have to go. Seriously, you can go without me."
Zane patted him on the shoulder. "None of that, it'll be fun. You and Mia are getting along so well that I think a night together is just what we need."
I rolled my eyes. Of course, he would. Zane loved to tease me, and Carter, with his obvious hostility, was the perfect target for a night of subtle torment. I wasn’t sure whether to hate or love this side of him.
“So, where are we going?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent, but curiosity got the better of me.
“Surprise,” Zane replied, his enigmatic smile returning. He glanced at Carter, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Carter let out an audible sigh, muttering something unintelligible. I couldn’t help but laugh. His frustration was so tangible, but at the same time, ridiculously comical.
"I'd rather die," Carter said, looking at Zane, hoping he'd change his mind.
“It’ll be fun,” Zane repeated, a teasing edge in his voice. “Or it’ll be unbearable. Either way, I’ll have fun.”
I sighed, resigned. If there was one thing I’d learned from Zane, it was that when he wanted to have fun at someone else’s expense, no one could escape. Carter was stuck with me, and deep down, I liked that. I could handle a night out if it meant watching Carter stew in his anger and jealousy.