Chapter 2

Half a month ago, the killer appeared out of nowhere and found my boyfriend.

They had snatched Nancy Lewis, the girl he had never gotten over.

“Hey, Green, the great artist, recognize this one?”

Nancy was ghost-white, clinging to hope like it was a lifeline. Tears streaming down her face, she begged for rescue.

“Patrick, please save me! I’m terrified! Can you take me home? Please?”

I had never seen Patrick lose his composure before. His eyes, usually so calm, were filled with worry—something rare for him. Patrick was always the stoic one, his emotions carefully hidden behind a mask of calm.

The only other time I had seen him so rattled was when I threw him a surprise birthday party. That day, the rooftop was battered by fierce winds, and he was overwhelmed with work at the station, completely forgetting his own birthday. I waited for him until well past midnight. When he finally returned and saw the spaghetti I had made, his eyes filled with gratitude.

However, with Nancy in danger now, he was totally losing it. Nancy meant the world to him, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of bitterness.

His fists were clenched tight, veins standing out on the back of his hands. He confronted the villain, “What do you really want?”

The crook pulled out two photos and handed them over. “Draw me a picture, and I’ll return your precious girl to you. Deal?”

Patrick was skeptical, his brow furrowed. “Is it really that simple?”

“Yeah, it’s that simple.”

However, there was one thing Patrick didn’t know.

The little girl in the photo, the one the crook wanted him to draw, was me as a child.

They had been after me all along.

My parents were undercover narcotics officers. After I was born, their identities remained secret. It wasn’t until they took down the leader of a criminal gang that their true identities were revealed.

They also died in the battle. That’s when their cover was blown, and my own identity made me a target too.

To protect me, the police erased every trace of me and my parents. For twenty years, I lived under the radar, just another face in the crowd.

Everything changed when the killer tracked Patrick down.

Patrick was no ordinary man; he was a legend. The go-to forensic artist for the cops, he had a knack for solving the most challenging cases. His gift? He could bring faces back from oblivion.

That day, he was lost in his work, sketching away, when police sirens sounded in the distance.

When the bad guy finally released Nancy, I saw Nancy rush into Patrick’s arms, and he held her like she was his lifeline, whispering, “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

However, what Patrick didn’t realize was that the moment he handed over that sketch, my own clock was ticking down.

Kicked out of the hospital by Patrick, I was on my own, heading home. I felt it deep in my gut—something wasn’t right.

Instinctively, I called the one person I thought could help. “Patrick, I think someone’s tailing me. Can you come get me? There are no cabs, and I’m freaking out here.”

Patrick thought I was just trying to get his attention, playing games. Furious, he snapped over the phone, “Are you messing with me again? You think this will make me come running? Let me tell you, even if you’re lying dead in the street, I won’t come looking for you. Leave me alone!”

That night, the alley felt like a black hole, and the sky seemed to weep with me.

The streets were deserted, leaving me alone with the shadows and the sound of my own heartbeat.

When the phone clicked dead, my heart sank. I tried to call for help and dial 911, but the killer behind me was one step ahead, knocking me out cold.

When I woke up, I was in an eerie, abandoned factory.

They were merciless, venting their anger by smashing my face with a shovel, breaking my bones. Yet, through it all, I clung to life.

They weren’t done with me. Not until they had their fill of torture.

To cover their tracks, they cut open my stomach and stuffed a ticking bomb inside.

As the explosion tore through the silence, I looked up at the heavens and laughed.

At last, I was free.