Black Widow

Unraveling

Jade's POV

Troy's hands roamed over me like he thought he was some kind of romantic lead, and for a heartbeat, I almost laughed.

Almost.

He really believed he could play me like a song — all rhythm, no substance — charm his way past my walls with a couple of cheap lines and a half-decent kiss.

The light in the room was soft and dirty, the kind that made everything look like a mistake. His cologne was trying too hard — too sweet, too sharp, like it wanted to cover something up. The air felt thick, heavy with expectation. Every brush of his fingers landed like static through glass. I could feel it, but I couldn't feel him.

I wasn't really there. Not fully.

Then it hit — that familiar, crushing tightness in my chest, like cold water filling my lungs. The same panic that came whenever I lost control.

Not now. Not again.

My body remembered what my mind had been pretending to forget and my hands curled into fists before I even realized it.

I shoved Troy off me, harder than I meant to.

"Not happening," I muttered, reaching for my jacket. "Sorry. Not your lucky night."

He blinked, confused, like he couldn't process rejection. But I was already out the door, my heartbeat pounding louder than the bass inside.

Outside, the air was cold and unapologetic. It bit at my skin, grounding me just enough. Liz was leaning against the brick wall, mascara smudged, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold in whatever had just spilled out.

"What now?" I sighed, sliding beside her.

She sniffled. "Victoria. We fought. Again."

Nevermind me starting to like the woman.

"Figures." I picked at a thread on my sleeve. "You two could get a Netflix deal at this point."

That earned a half-laugh — progress.

"You know," I said, glancing sideways at her, "if we ever wrote a guide on keeping life simple, we'd both fail spectacularly."

It was supposed to be a joke... but it didn't sound like one.

***

The hallway blurred into the street, and the street blurred into a cab. The cab smelled like lavender and old fries — peace and chaos, trapped in a four-door. The driver didn't talk, which was good, because I didn't have it in me to pretend. Streetlights bled across Liz's face, cutting her into flashes of worry and exhaustion.

Then my phone buzzed.

Jesse.

"Hey," I said, frowning. "What's up?"

His voice was too quiet. Tight. "I think my dad's back."

My stomach flipped. "Back as in—?"

"As in inside the house."

The air between us went still. The kind of silence that feels alive.

"You need to call the cops."

"I already did. They're not here yet."

"Okay, good. Then wait for them."

Pause.

"I'm going in."

"What?" My voice came out sharper than I meant. "No. No, Jesse. Don't you dare—"

"Jade," he said, low and steady. "My mom's in there."