Mae sat in front of her vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The bright lights around the edges of the glass illuminated her face, casting sharp shadows on her features. She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. The heavy makeup, the carefully sculpted waves of her hair, the glossy red lips—it was all part of the act, the persona she had built as the headline performer at Hell's Angels.

But beneath the layers of glamour, Mae could feel the cracks forming. The fear that had been gnawing at her for weeks was growing louder, more insistent. The man in the alley, the constant surveillance, the cryptic threats—they were all closing in on her, suffocating her with their weight. And now, even Charlie seemed different.

You can't trust anyone.

The words replayed in her head, a relentless loop that kept her on edge, kept her doubting everything and everyone around her. She had trusted Charlie for so long. He had been her rock, the one person who had always been there for her. But now, every interaction with him felt laced with something darker, something she couldn't name. He had saved her in the alley, but the way he had looked at the man, the way he had spoken afterward—it all felt wrong.

Mae picked up her makeup brush, but her hands were shaking too much to apply anything. She set it down with a sigh and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. What was she doing? What was she even fighting for anymore?

Her phone buzzed on the vanity, and her heart leapt into her throat. She grabbed it quickly, half-expecting another threatening message. But it was a text from Layla, one of the dancers at the club.

"You okay, babe? You seemed off tonight."

Mae stared at the message for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the screen. She wanted to respond, to tell Layla everything, to unload the weight that had been crushing her for days. But she couldn't. If she said too much, if she involved anyone else, she'd be putting them in danger too. And Mae couldn't live with that.

She typed out a quick response. "I'm fine. Just tired."

Lies. All lies. But it was easier than the truth.

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

"You need a drink. I'll bring you something after the show."

Mae forced a smile. Layla was sweet, always looking out for her. But a drink wasn't going to fix anything. Nothing would, not until she figured out a way to escape the invisible trap that had been set around her.

She stood up from the vanity and walked over to the window, pushing aside the heavy curtains to look out at the city below. The neon lights of Los Angeles flickered in the distance, casting an eerie glow over the streets. From up here, everything looked so normal, so alive. But Mae knew better. She knew that beneath the surface, something darker was at play.

Her mind raced as she stared out at the city, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The threats, the warnings, the feeling of being watched—it all pointed to something bigger, something she couldn't yet grasp. But the pieces weren't fitting together, no matter how hard she tried to force them.

Why me? Why now?

She thought back to the moment she had first arrived at Hell's Angels, the sense of freedom she had felt after leaving the convent behind. It had seemed like a fresh start, a way to reclaim her life on her terms. But now, it felt like she had traded one prison for another.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Mae tensed, her heart skipping a beat. She wasn't expecting anyone. She glanced at the clock—it was too early for Layla to be dropping by with drinks, and the show wasn't for another hour.

Another knock, this one more insistent.

"Mae?" Charlie's voice came through the door, soft but commanding.

Mae's stomach twisted into a knot. She hadn't expected him to show up here, not now. Not after everything that had happened.

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. The last thing she wanted was another conversation with Charlie, not when her mind was already a tangled mess of doubt and fear. But she couldn't avoid him forever.

With a deep breath, Mae opened the door.

Charlie stood there, his expression calm, but his eyes searching hers. "I just wanted to check on you," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I know things have been... intense lately."

Mae nodded, closing the door behind him. She didn't trust herself to speak, not yet.

Charlie's presence in the room felt different now. It used to comfort her, make her feel safe. But now, it made her feel trapped, like the walls were closing in around her.

"I don't want you to feel like you're alone in this," Charlie said, his voice soft but firm. "You don't have to carry this burden by yourself."

Mae looked at him, searching his face for any sign of the man she had once known, the man she had trusted with everything. But there was something off about him now, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"I appreciate that," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. "But I just... I need some space to think."

Charlie studied her for a moment, his gaze intense. "I understand," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "But you need to be careful, Mae. There are people out there who want to hurt you."

And you're one of them? The thought flashed through her mind, unbidden, but she pushed it away. She couldn't afford to think like that, not now.

"I know," Mae whispered, her throat tight. "I'm being careful."

Charlie's gaze lingered on her, and for a moment, Mae thought she saw something flicker behind his eyes—something dark, something calculating. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

"Good," he said softly. "Just remember, I'm here if you need me."

He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at her. "You're not alone, Mae," he repeated, his voice almost too quiet. "Don't forget that."

The words hung in the air long after he left, their weight pressing down on Mae like a lead blanket. She sank onto the edge of her bed, her mind racing.

You're not alone.

It was meant to be comforting, but all Mae could feel was the creeping sense of being watched, of being controlled. Charlie's words, his presence—they felt less like reassurance and more like a warning. A reminder that no matter where she went, no matter what she did, she would never truly be free.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Mae's breath came in shallow gasps. She felt trapped in a maze, with no way out. The walls were closing in, and she had no idea how much longer she could hold on.

Mae sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clutching the sheets, as if grounding herself to the only thing in the room that wasn't closing in on her. The silence after Charlie's departure was suffocating. Her heart still raced from the interaction, a low hum of anxiety building in her chest that she couldn't quite shake.

You're not alone.

The way he'd said it, with that quiet, almost eerie calmness, sent a shiver down her spine. She replayed the moment over and over in her head—the look in his eyes, the faint flicker of something dark she couldn't define. Charlie had always been a steady presence in her life, but now he felt like someone else, a stranger wearing the face of the man she once trusted.

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. Had she been imagining things? Was it just the paranoia that had been gnawing at her, making her question everyone? Or was Charlie really hiding something? The unease in her stomach deepened.

She stood up, pacing the room in restless circles, her bare feet brushing over the cold wooden floor. The more she thought about it, the more the pieces didn't add up. Charlie's sudden appearance at the alley, his cryptic warnings, the way he always seemed to know exactly where she was, what she was doing.

Mae rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of the thoughts crashing around in her mind. She needed answers, but she didn't know where to turn. Frank had been her only lifeline, but now even he was laying low, leaving her to face this nightmare alone.

She walked over to the window again, peeking out from behind the curtain. The streets below were quiet, almost too quiet. For a second, she imagined she saw movement in the shadows, a figure standing just out of view, watching her. Her pulse spiked, and she quickly closed the curtain, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

They're watching you. Always watching.

The paranoia had been creeping in for days, but now it felt like it was consuming her. Everywhere she went, every conversation she had, it was like invisible eyes followed her every move. She couldn't trust anyone. Not Frank. Not Layla. And certainly not Charlie.

Mae collapsed onto the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. She needed a plan, something to make sense of the chaos in her mind. But nothing seemed to work. The walls of her life had become too tangled, too twisted by lies and half-truths.

Her phone buzzed again on the nightstand, making her jump. She reached for it cautiously, her heart in her throat. Another text, this time from an unknown number.

"Time's running out, Mae. Make your choice."

Her blood ran cold. She stared at the message, her mind going blank. Who was sending these? What choice were they talking about? Was it a warning? A threat?

Mae felt her chest tighten as panic settled in. She threw the phone onto the bed as if it had burned her. Her breathing came faster now, her thoughts spinning out of control. She was trapped, completely and utterly trapped. And no matter where she turned, there was no escape.

In the stillness of the apartment, Mae curled up in a ball on the bed, feeling smaller and more helpless than she had in a long time. She could hear the faint buzz of the city outside, but it was distant, disconnected from the nightmare her life had become. She was alone. Terrifyingly alone.

The weight of everything—the threats, the lies, the feeling of being constantly watched—pressed down on her, suffocating her. The walls of her apartment felt like they were closing in, and Mae wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it.

But even as the panic clawed at her, something inside her refused to give in. She couldn't let them win. She couldn't let Charlie—or whoever was behind all of this—control her life. Not anymore.

Mae wiped away the tears that had begun to fall, her jaw tightening with resolve. She didn't have a plan yet, but she wasn't going to let them break her. She would fight. She had to.

With a shaky breath, she stood up and walked back to the vanity, staring at her reflection once more. This time, she didn't see the woman who felt lost and afraid. She saw someone who was ready to fight back. Someone who wouldn't let them take her life away.

I won't let them win, she thought, her eyes hardening as she stared at herself in the mirror.

She didn't know what her next move would be, but whatever it was, Mae knew one thing for sure: she couldn't trust anyone. Not Charlie. Not Frank. Not anyone.

From now on, she was on her own.