Chapter 3 – Silent Thoughts

Sera sat still among the other hostages, her breathing slow and measured. The tension in the air was suffocating. People around her were quietly sobbing, clutching each other in fear, but she remained silent, unmoving.

The leader's words replayed in her mind.

"Police won’t be coming. Security? Bought off. You’re all on your own now."

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her oversized hoodie.

She knew what that meant. There was no escape.

Her eyes drifted to the floor, tracing the patterns in the tile. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t panicking. She was just… existing. Floating somewhere between the present and the past.

A past she never wanted to remember.

Flashback – Two Years Ago

The bedroom was dim, the air thick with the scent of rain and cheap cologne.

Sera stood in the corner, staring at the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her long, curly hair stuck to her damp skin, her breaths shallow.

"Don’t look at me like that, Sera."

She didn’t move.

Tony stood a few feet away, running a hand through his short, messy hair. His expression was tight, like he was struggling with something. But Sera knew better.

He wasn’t struggling.

He was planning.

"I didn’t have a choice."

Sera’s fingers clenched into fists.

"You’ll be fine," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "They said they wouldn’t hurt you. They just… they just need you for a little while."

Her stomach twisted.

"Sera, don’t look at me like that."

Her silence was suffocating him.

She could see it.

Tony always hated that she never spoke, that her eyes held too much. That her silence screamed louder than words ever could.

"I—" He swallowed, then took a step back. "I gotta go."

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving her to them.

Present – The Mall

Sera blinked, the cold tile beneath her grounding her back to reality. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the fabric of her sleeves.

Tony was here. Somewhere in the mall, among the hostages.

Her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

She couldn’t let him see her break.

Her gaze flickered to Dre, who still stood nearby, his large arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t looking at her, but she knew he was aware of her every move.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came.

Instead, she reached into the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out her small notepad and pen.

She always kept them with her.

With slow, careful movements, she wrote:

“How long?”

Dre’s sharp eyes shifted toward her.

For a moment, he just stared at the words. Then, without hesitation, he crouched down in front of her, his massive frame making her feel even smaller.

He tilted his head slightly. “How long what?”

She hesitated, then wrote again.

“How long will we be here?”

Dre’s lips pressed together behind his mask, his gaze flickering toward the other hostages before settling back on her.

"Depends," he muttered.

Sera waited.

Dre exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could be hours. Could be longer.”

Her fingers tightened around the pen.

Dre watched her, his expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, he reached out—slowly, deliberately.

Sera stiffened as his fingertips grazed her wrist, flipping the notepad to a blank page.

And then, using his own gloved hand, he wrote something.

“You scared?”