Chapter 3 Chapter Three

Chapter 3.

Genevieve's Point Of View.

The rain continued shortly after, but the silence in my small studio was louder than the storm outside.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my knees pulled to my chest, staring at the locked door. Nilo had left me at the mouth of the alley, but his warning timing in my ears like a siren.

'Someone else is already inside, watching you closely.'

~

I hadn't slept. Every creak of the floorboards, every rattle of the window pane made me flinch.

By the time the sun began to rise, turning the gray sky a dull yellow, I had to move. If I stayed in this room, I'd lose my mind. I washed my face, pulled on a clean apron and walked down the stairs to get my car keys to leave for the bakery.

I froze mid way as I remembered Nilo's words. Someone bugged my car, even though he removed it, it still wasn't safe.

I decided to drop the keys and walk, afterall the bakery wasn't so far.

When I arrived, the warmth of the ovens was a relief. I tried the scent of fresh cinnamon and sugar, temporarily pushing the smell of wet copper from my mind.

"Morning Aveline," a cheerful voice called out from the prep kitchen.

Zane stepped out, carrying a tray of fresh croissants. He was young- maybe twenty eight, with soft messy brown hair and warm brown eyes that always seemed to be crinkling with amusement. He owned the bakery, having bought it six months ago from the previous owner who had retired to the coast. He was sweet, slightly clumsy, and had spent the last three months trying to convince me to go to dinner with him.

"Morning, Zane," I said, forcing a small smile as I took the tray from him.

"You look tired," he said, his brow furrowing with concern as he wiped a smudge of flour from his cheek. "Are you okay? You didn't leave the lights on last night, did you? The front lock was a little sticky this morning."

My heart did a quick, frantic skip. "The lock?"

"Yeah," Zane smiled, reaching out to Pat on my shoulder. His hand was warm, his touch entirely harmless, but a tiny, discordant note rang in the back of my mind. "Must be the rain. Don't sorry about it. I'll grease it later,"

“Oh-”

“Yeah, you were quite brave yesterday-" he suddenly stopped and blinked.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Nevermind.”

"I'm so sorry about the mess," I muttered, lowering my head.

"Mess?" I looked up to see him laughing. "It's fine Aveline, you even cleaned up better than usual,"

I arched my brow in confusion. "I did?"

But- last night....I ran away from the bakery and didn't come back...

Wait... Did Nilo actually return to cover up what happened?

I was pulled from my thoughts when I noticed Zane's intense gaze. He had tilted his head, his brows furrowing with concern. "You are really tired. Why don't you take the register today? You look like you need a break. I'd handle everything."

"I really do," I said, dropping the tray. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He beamed, picking up the tray.

The shift passed in a blur of clinking coins and polite smiles. But the paranoia was a constant, low grade fever. I watched every car that parked across the street, waiting for Nilo's gray trench coat to appear.

But he didn't show.

But no, the rush had died down. Zane was in the back office, the door closed, supposedly working on the weekly inventory. I decided to clean the display cases, reaching for the heavy glass cleaner under the counter.

As I reached into the dark cabinet, my fingers brushed against something cold.

It wasn't a bottle of cleaner.

I pulled my hand back, my heart slamming against my ribs. I reached back in, my fingers closing around a small, heavy black box with a. Tiny blinking red light on the side.

A listening device.

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the blinking light, the cold reality hitting me like a physical blow.

Nilo was right.

Someone was watching me.

Someone inside....

"Aveline?"

Zane's voice came from behind me.

I scrambled to my feet, shoving the small black box into the pocket of my apron, my hands shaking so violently I almost dropped the glass cleaner.

Zane was standing in the doorway of the office, his sleeves rolled up, a warm innocent smile on his face. He was holding, small white envelope.

"This was delivered to the back door for you," he said, walking toward me. "A courier brought it. No return address."

He handed me the envelope. The paper was heavy, expensive and bore a single, elegant stamp of a spilt mountain peak- the old crest of my family's estate.

I tore it open, my fingers trembling. Inside was a single, high resolution photography.

It was a picture of my parent's car, taken seconds before the explosion. In the passenger seat, my mother was looking directly at the camera, her eyes filled with terror. And standing in the background, partially obscured by the shadow of a streetlamp, was a young man with messy brown hair and warm brown eyes.

My breath left my lungs in a sharp gasp. I looked up from the photo, my eyes locking onto the charming harmless boss standing in front of me.

Zane.

His smile didn't fade, but the warmth in his brown eyes died instantly, replaced by a cold, calculating stillness that looked entirely too much like a killer.

"You always were too curious, Aveline," Zane whispered, his hand slowly sliding into his pocket. "Or should I say Genevieve?"