Chapter 5 Zora
The soft chime of the elevator’s arrival usually signals the start of my evening routine; a quiet transition from the Radiant Life persona back into the woman who just wants to hide from the world.
Tonight, the metal doors slide apart, but the foyer doesn’t offer its typical invitation.
Instead, my gaze locks onto a small, rectangular object dangling from the exterior frame of the elevator, right at eye level.
A single strand of fishing line holds it there.
My breath hitches. I step out of the lift before I think about the implications, my heels clicking on the polished marble. As I reach for the paper.
Charred edges curl around the familiar image.
My fingers tremble. I don’t recognize the faces, but I recognize the shirt the girl in the center wears; it had been my favorite.
I wear a faded yellow t-shirt with a hand-painted sunflower blooming across the chest. It felt soft like butter against my skin back then.
The only thing I owned that made me feel beautiful in a place that smelled like bleach and sadness.
Back when everyone called me Sunflower because my mother didn’t want my father being able to find me, even if she couldn’t care for me herself at the time.
I scan the boys surrounding the girl. Recognition hits me like a blow to the stomach; slowly I pick them out from the things I used to tell them apart back then.
Reid stands the tallest; even as a child, his posture already carried the weight of a leader.
Dameon possesses shoulders far too wide for a ten-year-old.
Theo has the long, honey-blonde hair I spent hours brushing in the quiet corners of the yard, the strands always catching the sunlight.
And Micah, small but brilliant Micah, peers through old black-frame glasses, the bridge and arms held together by thick, grimy strips of white medical tape.
Burnt holes replace all our eyes; it’s very clear it was done on purpose.
Panic claws at my throat. This photo shouldn’t exist. The fire consumed everything; the files, toys, and memories. I watched the roof collapse into the ash fifteen years ago.
I flip the photo over. My heart racing against my ribs as I read the jagged handwriting: What makes them good enough for you, Sunflower?
Ice water floods my veins. If the paper hung from the frame on the outside, then the person who left it should still be in here. They stood exactly where I am now. My gaze darts toward the deep shadows of the hallway and then all the corners. The person who left this message might still be here.
The scream rips from my throat before I can stop it. I stumble back; the Polaroid fluttering from my fingers and landing face-up on the marble. Before the echo of my scream even dies, a thunderous crash erupts from the far side of the living room.
I spin toward the noise, my hands coming up to shield my face.
The heavy metal door leading to the fire escape, a door I remember checking to see if it was locked after I moved in, shudders on its hinges.
The crew cut and shoulders, along with the uniform, suggest it might be Sawyer Morgan, the head of security.
He moves with a speed that defies his massive, Beta frame. His boots thud against the stone as he clears the distance between the exit and the foyer in three strides. He looks like a storm made of charcoal fabric and muscle.
I sink to my knees, my lungs refusing to take in air. I focus instead on the name tag pinned to his chest: Sawyer Morgan.
He drops to a knee in front of me, his large hands hovering near my shoulders but he doesn’t touch me. He keeps a respectful distance, but his energy feels radioactive. It pulses with a heat that makes my skin prickle.
“Miss Zora! Are you alright? We got an alert that you were in crisis.”
I point a shaking finger at the Polaroid on the floor. I can’t find the words. My jaw feels locked, my throat tight with the taste of imaginary smoke.
He glances at the photo, then his forest-green eyes sweep the room with a lethal intensity. He stands and goes through the apartment, checking all the rooms before he comes back and stares down at the photo.“Whoever left this, they’re gone.”
For some reason, that’s not comforting. I frown and stare up at him from the floor. “Why are you here?”
“Your cortisol levels hit the red zone, and your heart rate spiked to a hundred and forty. The system triggered a priority-one emergency response. Urie had to step out for a moment, but he’ll be coming to check you over. I was the fastest responder to make sure you were alright.”
I look down at the matte black band on my right wrist. The small LED glows with a pulsing crimson. “How... how did you get here so fast? I only just screamed.”
Sawyer doesn’t blink. He gestures toward the open fire escape door, his jaw set in a hard, rigid line.
“I was on the twelfth-floor for a routine sensor check. When the alert hit my tablet, I didn’t wait for the lift. I took the stairs.”
He offers a hand to help me up. I take it and goosebumps spread along my arms.
“You’re safe now.”
I look at the fire escape. Is he telling the truth? What if he left the photo here?
Sawyer’s still here twenty minutes later. He moves through my penthouse, double-checking the closets, the balcony, and all the rooms. He handles the charred Polaroid with a pair of latex gloves he pulled from a pocket, placing it into a small plastic bag as if it contains the evidence of a murder.
“The elevator logs show no unauthorized entries. The biometrics stayed green all evening. No one called the lift to the thirteenth floor.”
He stops near the fire escape door. He looks at his tablet, his thumb tapping the screen with a restless, rhythmic cadence. I sit on the edge of the sofa, my legs tucked tightly against my chest.
“Then how did it get there? It wasn’t there an hour ago before I went down to the gym.” I wrap my arms around my knees, shivering as the air conditioning hums overhead. The sound usually provides calming white noise, but now it’s setting me more on edge.
He heads toward the elevator. “ I’m not sure.
I’ll have Ethan run a full diagnostic on the elevator’s camera.
If there’s a blind spot, we’ll find it. I’m stationing two men at the elevator on each floor.
No one but the residents will use it. We’ll know if someone unauthorized is in the building.
You should try to get some sleep, Miss Zora. We have the perimeter locked down.”
I sigh. “Tell Urie I’m fine and I don’t need to be checked. I want to be left alone.”
A frown tugs at the corner of his lips. “Alright, but if you need anything, just hit the panic button on your wristband.”
I watch him leave. The metal doors slide shut. I don’t move. I stare at the spot on the marble where the photo lay just minutes ago.
The photo exists as a reminder to a nightmare I thought the fire swallowed fifteen years ago.
Those boys in the yard. Reid, Dameon, Theo, Micah.
The names echo in my head, ghost-children from a shelter that no longer exists.
I remember Reid’s height, Dameon’s shoulders, Theo’s hair, and Micah’s taped glasses.
But those children vanished in the smoke.
Now, someone found their photo. Someone knew I lived in Unit 1301.
Someone walked into the most secure building in the city and left a threat in my home.
Standing up, I walk toward the balcony, my now bare feet silent on the stone. I push open the heavy glass door. The humid night air of the city rushes in, smelling of exhaust and distant rain; I double-check no one is out there before I sigh and close it again.
I need to drown out the sound of my frantic thoughts.
Heading to my nest, I crawl onto the bed and pull the weighted blanket over before grabbing my laptop.
The blue light of the laptop reflects in my eyes.
I log into the portal, my fingers trembling as I type in the address for the Remote Alpha Aid.
Tuesday’s online icon glows a soft, inviting green. He helped me the other night when I felt on the verge of a mental breakdown. I hit the request button. I need Tuesday to pull me back from the edge.
The digital chime of the connection sounds off in the quiet of the nesting room.
The screen flickers to life, and the dark, charcoal mask of Tuesday fills the frame.
He sits in that high-backed chair, his broad shoulders casting a heavy shadow over the desk behind him.
The frantic noise in my head lets up a bit just seeing him through the portal.
I pull the weighted blanket tighter around my shoulders and sink into my bed, my arms tucked securely beneath the heavy fabric.
Tuesday leans forward, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He carries himself with a steady vibe that reaches through the speakers and settles right into my bones.
“Good to see you again, Zo. You look restless. Anything I can do for you?”
I stare at the eye-slits of the mask, trying to find the man behind the fabric.
“I just need to relax. It’s been a bad night. Can you help me fall asleep? Like the other night?”
Silence hangs between us for a long beat. Tuesday leans back in his chair, his gaze steady through the mask. “Do you want to talk about it first, Zo?”
I pick at a loose thread on the blanket from underneath the weight. The image of that charred Polaroid keeps flashing in my mind, making my heart race all over again.
“Someone left a photo in my apartment. A childhood photo that shouldn’t even exist. They got past all the security. I feel like I’m being watched in my own home.”
Tuesday’s shoulders tighten up before he eases them back down.
“That sounds messed up, Zo. Nobody should have to deal with that. I get why you’re so on edge. We’ll take it slow tonight. Just lie back on the pillows and get comfortable. Close your eyes when you’re ready.”