The man's voice hung in the air, heavy and full of menace. Mae's body tensed as she stood frozen in place, her mind racing to keep up with what was happening. This wasn't some distant threat anymore. It wasn't just cryptic text messages or warnings whispered in shadowy corners. This was real—tangible, right in front of her, and she had no idea how to escape.

Frank's hand gripped her arm, pulling her backward slightly as he positioned himself between her and the man. "Mae, stay behind me," he whispered, his voice tight with fear.

The alley felt claustrophobic now, the shadows pressing in from all sides. The faint sound of music from Hell's Angels was a distant hum, almost drowned out by the pounding of Mae's heart in her ears. She had never felt so vulnerable, so trapped.

The man stepped closer, his dark figure looming over them. Mae could see him more clearly now—the sharp angles of his face, the cold, calculating eyes that seemed to bore into her with an unsettling intensity. There was no doubt in her mind: he was here to make sure she stopped asking questions. He was here to remind her of her place.

Frank's breath hitched beside her, his nerves visibly fraying. "Look, we don't want any trouble," he said, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to keep it calm. "We'll back off. Whatever Mae's done, it's over. Just let us go."

The man's lips curled into a smile, though there was no warmth in it—only a predatory satisfaction. "It's not that simple," he replied, his voice low and menacing. "You should have kept your head down. You should have followed the rules."

The way he said it sent a chill down Mae's spine. It was as if she had unwittingly signed a contract she never knew existed—one that dictated her every move. And now that she had dared to ask questions, dared to push back against the invisible force pulling the strings, she was about to face the consequences.

Mae's mind flashed back to the cryptic messages she'd received, the warnings from Frank, the strange tension that had been building over the past few weeks. The pieces were slowly falling into place, but none of it brought her comfort. If anything, it only made the reality more terrifying: she was being controlled, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The man's gaze flicked toward Frank, narrowing slightly. "You've been digging around where you don't belong," he said, his voice sharp with disdain. "You've been talking to people you shouldn't. That's a dangerous habit, Frank."

Frank swallowed hard, his hand tightening on Mae's arm. "We'll stop," he said quickly, desperation seeping into his tone. "We'll stop everything. Just let us go."

But the man shook his head slowly, his smile fading. "It's too late for that."

Mae's pulse quickened. She glanced around the alley, her eyes darting toward the distant street, the fire escape, anywhere that might offer a way out. But the man was blocking their path, and there was no guarantee they could outrun him. Panic swelled in her chest, and she fought to keep her breathing steady, even as every instinct screamed at her to flee.

"Mae," the man said, his voice almost soft now, as if he were speaking to a child who didn't understand the gravity of her actions. "You've made a mistake. A big one. But lucky for you, there's still a way out of this."

Mae's eyes snapped to his, her heart hammering in her chest. "What do you want?" she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man took another step closer, his presence overwhelming. "You need to fall in line," he said simply. "Stop asking questions. Stop trying to figure out things that aren't your business. Do what you're told, and this will all go away."

The words hung between them, laden with the weight of an unspoken threat. Mae felt her throat tighten as she realized what he was really saying. They didn't want her to just back down—they wanted her to submit, to give up any semblance of control over her own life. They wanted her to become just another pawn in whatever twisted game they were playing.

She took a shaky breath, her mind reeling. "And if I don't?"

The man's smile returned, but this time, it was more sinister. "Then we'll make sure you never have the chance to ask another question."

The threat was clear now, sharp and undeniable. Mae's skin prickled with fear, her mouth going dry as the reality of her situation sank in. They weren't bluffing. If she didn't do what they wanted, if she didn't play by their rules, they would make her disappear—just like they had with others before her.

Frank's hand tightened on her arm again, and she could feel the tension radiating off him. He was scared—terrified, even—but he was still trying to protect her, still trying to find a way out of this. But Mae wasn't sure there was one.

"I understand," Mae whispered, her voice barely audible. She hated the way the words tasted on her tongue, hated the idea of giving in to their demands. But right now, survival was the only thing that mattered.

The man's smile widened, as if he were pleased with her submission. "Good," he said softly. "You're learning."

He took a step back, his gaze still fixed on Mae as if he were studying her, measuring her. "Remember this feeling, Mae. Remember how it feels to be powerless. Because that's what you are. You're a performer. That's all. And if you want to keep performing, if you want to keep your life, you'll stay in line."

The finality of his words hit Mae like a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, her breath shallow as she stared at him, unable to speak. She wanted to scream, to fight back, to tell him that he didn't own her—that no one did. But the fear was too strong, the threat too real.

The man glanced at Frank, his smile fading. "As for you... I suggest you stop playing the hero. You're only making things worse for her."

Frank's jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides, but he didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. The man had made it clear—if Frank kept trying to help Mae, he'd only be putting her in more danger.

Without another word, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows of the alley, leaving Mae and Frank standing in the cold, empty space he had occupied moments before. The tension that had been suffocating them slowly lifted, but the fear remained, gnawing at Mae's insides like a poison she couldn't shake.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of what had just happened settled heavily over them, thickening the air between them.

Finally, Frank broke the silence. "Mae," he said softly, his voice trembling. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know..."

Mae shook her head, her throat too tight to speak. She didn't want to hear his apologies. She didn't want to think about how close they had come to something much worse. All she wanted was to run, to escape this nightmare before it consumed her completely.

But she couldn't run. Not now.

"What do we do?" Frank asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Mae's mind raced, her thoughts tumbling over one another in a chaotic whirlwind. She didn't have an answer. All she knew was that the man's threat was real, and they were running out of time.

"We lay low," Mae said finally, her voice shaky but determined. "We don't ask any more questions. We don't push. We just... do what they want. For now."

Frank looked at her, his eyes filled with guilt and fear. "And then what?"

Mae didn't know. She couldn't think that far ahead. All she could do was survive the present, and hope that somehow, somewhere along the way, she would find a way out of this mess.

"We take it one day at a time," she said quietly. "We keep our heads down, and we wait."

Frank nodded, though his expression remained grim. "I'll keep digging," he said softly. "Carefully. Maybe... maybe there's still a way to fix this."

Mae didn't respond. She wasn't sure if there was anything left to fix. All she knew was that her life was no longer her own, and that no matter how hard she tried to fight it, the people behind Hell's Angels would always be one step ahead.

They had eyes everywhere, and Mae was trapped in their web.

As she and Frank left the alley, walking in silence, Mae couldn't shake the feeling that the man's words would haunt her for a long time.

Remember how it feels to be powerless.

Mae clenched her fists, her resolve hardening. She wasn't powerless. Not yet.

But she was getting close.