Page 53 of Tension

For the first time, I didn't see the 'hoe' Vel had used to be. I saw a man who had learned from a mistake.

He was moving in that weekend, and the next day I was helping him unpack the rest of his things. It had been a few weeks since I’d last seen him, but he had checked in every night without fail. He made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. He reminded me to keep my gun close, asked if my cameras were on, and somehow still found space for us to just talk. The more I learned about him, the more I appreciated him.

The police still hadn’t found anything on Brian. Management swore they were “working on installing cameras.” Vel didn’t wait. He had installed a doorbell cam himself the last time he was here. I smiled at the memory, hearing him curse under his breath at the instructions.

“Big plans this weekend?”

I didn’t jump, but my body tensed.

Ty.

He hovered near the printer, pretending to be busy, but his eyes were locked on me like always.

“Yeah,” I said. “Helping my friend, Vel, move into his new place.”

Ty raised one eyebrow. “Vel? The guy who picked you up that one time?”

I nodded. “Yep.” How the hell had he remembered that?

He hesitated, then gave a soft, awkward laugh. “So… you two got a thing going on?”

I paused only a second before answering. “Yeah. We do.”

His face fell. “Damn. Thought maybe I had a chance this time.”

I offered a polite smile. “Ty, focus on women who like you back. They exist. I promise.”

I gathered a stack of papers I didn’t need and stepped around him. As I passed the break room, my eyes caught Malisa’s. She looked away immediately, suddenly fascinated by the coffee machine. She had been quiet lately. No awkward zodiac conversations. No snacks left on my desk. Barely any words at all.

That was fine by me.

When I finally clocked out and stepped outside, the sun was setting, and I was ready to go. But the second I saw my car, everything in me froze.

My tires.

All four were slashed. My heart dropped straight into my stomach. On the windshield, flapping under the wiper, was a torn piece of paper with a single word scrawled in thick black ink.

Whore.

I stumbled backward before rushing inside. Everything after that blurred. Dialing the police. Answering questions. Filing a report.

Chris from building security met with me. We had bonded over a shared name when I first started working here years ago. He was a cool dude.

He said whoever had done it knew where the blind spots were.

This wasn’t random.

There was no way Brian was this smart.

Afterward, I locked myself in the women’s bathroom just long enough to cry, wipe my face, and pull myself together.

I couldn’t go home. Home didn’t feel safe anymore.

I called a driver and asked to be taken across town to a bar I had never been to.

I didn’t want familiar; I wanted noise.

The bar gave me exactly that: dim lights, loud music, and chaos. I was halfway inside when I froze.