Zed swatted my legs lightly, like scolding a misbehaving cat. “Would you shut up before you get both of us caught!”

“Bro, you literally confessed to stalking someone! And now you're kidnapping me!”

“Quiet, Izy!” His voice cracked on the nickname Izy.

I froze for half a second.

And he took that second to kick open the back door of a black van parked nearby, tossing me inside like precious cargo.

“I’m not Izy!” I yelled.

“Shut your mouth, and keep quite I’m taking you somewhere safe.” He commanded and closed the door on me.

Okay, I was upset that he didn’t remember me, but that doesn't make me want him to kidnap me. ALSO, what the fuck does he mean by stalking! Does he know about me faking my death? That doesn’t make sense.

The world blurred.

Tires screeched.

The city lights streaked by flashes in gold and white as we drove into the night.

…

The doors of the safe house slammed shut behind us.

I stumbled as Zed finally set me down on my feet, hair messy, eyes wide and furious.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I snapped, yanking the mask off.

Zed just stared.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Zed whispered, voice raw. “You died–you were buried, Izy.”

“Stop calling me Izy! I am not Izy!” I yelled.

“Then how the fuck do you look like her?” he yelled back, stepping closer.

“I DON’T KNOW!” I yelled, giving him my best confused face.

Zed stared at me, chest heaving. Torn between believing and not. Between hope and heartbreak.

He reached out slowly, afraid I might vanish again.

But I took a casual step back, playing it cool, hands stuffed in my pockets like I wasn’t seconds away from laughing or crying, maybe both.

I thought. God, I’m a little too good at this.

I also thought. If he hugs me right now, I’m screwed.

Before I could even think of another excuse, Zed closed the distance between us and hugged me.

It was rough.

It wasn't angry.

It was devastatingly gentle.

Like he was afraid I might break in his arms.

I stiffened, eyes wide, heart hammering so loudly I was worried Zed might hear it.

Zed’s voice was low right against my ear.

“If you come clean right now.” He whispered, “I swear nothing will happen.”

My fingers twitched at my side.

I could feel the heat of Zed’s hand.

It would be so easy to fall into.

To admit it.

To say I'm sorry I faked my death; it was on my bucket list to traumatize a man, and I’m definitely not in love with you.

But instead I made a small, shaky sound and mumbled: “I really think you’ve got the wrong person…”

I could feel Zed’s grip tighten for a second.

Then he let me go, stepping back, eyes filled with something a lot like heartbreak.

I shoved my hands back into the pockets to hide how badly they were shaking.

Stay calm, stupid. You’ve been training for this.

Zed stared at me for a long time, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Finally he exhaled slowly and stepped back, raking a hand through his hair.

“Okay,” Zed said, voice rough. “Fine, you don't remember, fine.”

He pointed to a couch.

“But you're a witness now. You saw too much tonight. If you leave, they’ll come after you. So whether you like it or not, you're staying here tonight….”

I blinked at him, trying to look confused and a little scared, even though inside I was thinking about how very Zed this was.

Zed softened just slightly, voice dropping low again.

“I’ll protect you, I promise. Just… don't run, alright?”

Then, like we were meeting for the first time, Zed offered a hand and said casually.

“My name is Zayne Dallari.”