Thirty minutes later, Andre walked back into his living room. Zayden was on the sofa playing a video game.
“Why are you still awake, Zayden?”
Zayden watched Andre rub the towel through his wet hair. “I thought you were never going to come out of the shower.”
Andre sat next to him. “You didn’t answer my question.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Past midnight.”
“You must have a good time tonight, dad. You were whistling in the shower.”
“I see now. You want to know if your old man scared another one away.”
Zayden paused his game. “I just want to know how it went.”
Andre tossed the towel at Zayden. “It went well. We are going out again this week.”
He took the remote from Zayden and held it out of reach. “What are you playing anyway?”
Zayden folded his arms. He knew Andre was trying to change the subject. He reached for the remote and turned the television off.
“Alright. I had a good time tonight. My date was Lila Jean Reno.”
Zayden’s eyes went wide. “Lila Jean? Dad, you sent her to jail. She hates you.”
Andre rose from the sofa. He handed the gaming remote back to Zayden, walked through the living room, and out onto the balcony. Zayden followed him out.
Andre perched against the balcony railing, scanning the city lights below. “She hates Spant,” he said quietly.
“Dad. I…”
“No need, Zayden.” Andre ran his hand through Zayden’s hair. “You’re right. I know. I did send her to prison. I thought about that all night long. How would she react if she knew I was the man she hates?”
“Kind of funny they would set you up with her.”
“Something strange happened tonight.” Andre leaned closer, scanning the streets below. “Someone or something bumped LJ in the restaurant tonight. She thought nothing of it.”
“But you did.” Zayden gripped the railing as he glanced toward the street below.
Andre nodded. “She thought the person accidentally spilled their drink.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
Andre turned toward the door. “I don’t believe in coincidences. That makes me wrong sometimes.” He motioned to Zayden to follow. “Most times, I am not wrong.”
Andre closed the sliding door and locked it.
Suddenly, his world tilted.
One moment, he was calculating his next move in protecting LJ from Swarn. The next step, a sharp sensation tore through his hip. Andre staggered to a halt. His leg buckled under the weight.
Zayden caught a glimpse of it. He lunged quickly and caught the brunt of Andre’s weight on his shoulder. “Dad!”
Andre pointed to the sofa. “I’m okay. I just need to lay down.”
Zayden flung the remote off the sofa as he guided Andre to lay down on it. “This one’s intense this time.”
Andre turned on his side, facing Zayden. “It’ll pass, son. Like they always do.” Andre pulled Zayden’s head to his. “I will be alright. Don’t worry about me. Go to bed.”
Zayden nodded but had no intention of going to bed. He had seen these moments of pain more times than he’d like to remember. He knew it was one of the reasons Andre hated Pharma.
Zayden turned out the lights, ran past the sofa, and into his room. He grabbed a pillow and blanket from his bed, then went back into the living room and made a bed for himself in front of the sofa.
***
The next morning, Andre woke up a little stiff. He wasn’t sure if it was because of last night’s episode, the couch, or the fact that his abdomen was still healing from the fight with Swarn.
Andre swung his legs over the sofa, narrowly missing Zayden’s head.
“Zayden,” he whispered.
Zayden hadn’t done exactly as he told him. This wasn’t new. Andre’s episodes trigger something in Zayden. That’s why he hates it when they come on when Zayden is around. Andre is used to them, but they worry Zayden.
He dug his fingers into the sofa, bracing himself before standing.
He adjusted the blanket on Zayden, then lifted him into his arms and laid him onto the sofa, trying not to wake him.
After a moment, he slipped into the second bedroom.
This was his surveillance room.
Monitors lined the walls. The room was lit only by the lights emitting from the monitors. He sat at the desk. He leaned closer, eyes narrowing as he scanned each frame.
After a few clicks of the mouse, he had hacked into the security footage from the restaurant last night. At first glance, nothing unusual—just LJ and Michelle entering.
He advanced frame by frame until Lila Jean left the table.
Andre heard the floor creak from the other room. Zayden poked his head through the door.
The monitors’ glow reflected across Andre’s face as he watched him enter.
“Why are you up?”
Zayden yawned. “Been up for a minute.”
Andre smiled. “I knew it.”
Zayden reached for a pair of headphones, but Andre grabbed them first.
“Today is Sunday. Enjoy your day off, Link.”
Before he could protest, Andre turned to him. “Your mother would hate me for involving you in all of my extracurricular activities.”
He stood and walked him to the door. “I’m not training you to be a vigilante.”
Zayden stopped, craning his neck. “I want to be just like you, dad. You help people. I want to do the same when I grow up.”
Andre leaned over, touching Zayden’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to do what I do. I do this because the world took my choice. I won’t let it take yours.”
“Go get yourself ready. I will take you out, and we will finish this over breakfast.”
Zayden agreed.
Andre closed the door and locked it. His hand paused over the controls… just for a moment.
Then he kept scanning the footage.
***
He watched as Lila Jean walked into the restroom behind Michelle. A tall dark figure in a long dark trench coat with a dark scarf around its neck followed, slowly stopping at the door.
Andre isolated the image and leaned in. The image was grainy. He couldn’t make out the person, if it was a person. The proportions were slightly off. The figure’s massive torso bulged in the coat and tapered off towards its legs.
Someone walked past the strange figure and it moved quickly into a shadowed corner.
“It darts into shadows the moment anyone passes. Then resumes waiting.”
Michelle walked out of the ladies’ room. She readjusted her dress and walked off camera. The figure returned. The figure always kept its back to the camera, aware it was being watched. It paced back and forth while it waited.
“I knew it wasn’t an accident,” he murmured.
Suddenly, the figure stilled. A full minute passed. The figure didn’t move.
LJ walked out.
The figure rushed into her. She stumbled, but the figure caught her with a gloved hand. From this angle, Andre couldn’t tell if the figure held a glass, but something did spill on her.
The dark figure walked toward the back of the restaurant. LJ returned to her table, shaken but composed.
Andre checked the other cameras. The figure wasn’t seen on any other camera.
“Hmm.”
He ran the film back, searching for the exact moment when the mysterious figure entered the restaurant. The figure was seen on film only before and after bumping into Lila Jean.
“Every motion, every pause… it’s all for her. He was waiting for LJ.”
***
An hour later, while Andre and Zayden ate brunch at a local café, two figures met in secret across town in a dark, secluded building.
One towered in the shadows. The other bounced on his heels, unable to stay in place.
The shorter one could barely contain himself. He darted from side to side, fingers twitching, eyes scanning every corner of the building.
“You picked a strange place. Why am I here?”
The taller man said nothing.
“Don’t talk much, huh?”
The taller man stepped from the shadows. He grabbed the jittering man by the collar.
“You are as annoying as a flea,” Swarn growled.
The smaller man’s stomach lurched as he dangled in midair.
Swarn pulled a pair of goggles and a backpack from his trench coat and tossed them toward the man. “Wear these. They’ll make you useful.”
“I will call you Flea,” Swarn said, letting go of Flea’s collar.
Flea’s eyes narrowed. He lunged at Swarn. “I’m tired of being beat up on by people bigger than me.”
Swarn swatted him away with the back of his gloved fist. “You should be used to it then.”
Before Flea hit the floor, Swarn was on him. Flea’s body went limp as Swarn held him by his neck.
“Raise another hand to me, it will be the last time you do so.”
Swarn dropped him to the floor.
Flea cowered, reaching for the goggles.
Swarn flung off his trench coat. The sound of clicking started. Flea’s eyes refused to blink. They were too focused on the monstrous sight standing in front of him.
Swarn’s body began to straighten. Rising inch by inch, his shadow grew across the wall. The clicking intensified until he towered completely over Flea.
Swarn roared.
“Do you understand?!”
Flea fell back on his knees, hands waving in defense. Flea’s voice cracked and his hands shook. “Ye…yes.”
***
As Swarn and Flea come to a full understanding, Andre and Zayden, having just finished breakfast, stopped at a food truck selling ice cream.
“Well if it isn’t my two favorite customers? I already know what you guys want,” the older female vendor asked. “You two are so cute.”
Andre smiled and was about to place their order when she ducked her head back into the truck. She came back to the window not long later with two ice cream cones. One was Zayden’s favorite, double scoop of blueberry lemon.
Andre handed Zayden his ice cream cone. Zayden took a seat at a nearby table while Andre prepared to pay for their treats.
Andre watched Zayden take a few licks of the cone and pulled the cash from his wallet. “You know our routine, Tia.”
“It warms my heart to see you two, Andre. I remember how withdrawn Zayden was when his mother died.”
Andre looked at Zayden over his shoulder. “He’s come a long way.”
“That’s because of you. You gave him stability.”
“He did the same for me, Tia.”
Andre turned. He was walking to join Zayden when something caught his attention: he heard it before he saw it.
A faint click.
“Zayden!” he shouted.
Zayden looked up to see a small object the size of a puppy bounce and settle near him. The flea-looking device twitched. It leapt and landed on the table in front of him.
Tia screamed.
Andre kicked the table away. He threw his body over Zayden’s.
The flea exploded.
Debris flew as bystanders screamed and scattered. Andre gripped Zayden tight as they landed yards away.
Moments later, Andre woke first. His ears rang.
A burning sensation flared in his right leg. He looked down—his pants leg was burnt and bloody. His clothes were torn; he had taken the brunt of the blast. Zayden was under him.
“Zayden. Speak to me.”
“Dad, what’s…going on?” he asked, rubbing his head.
Andre scooped Zayden up in his arms. He heard another click.
Another flea landed in front of him. It landed closer than the first had. It began to twitch.
Without hesitation, Andre kicked it. It exploded moments later mid-air.
Tia’s food truck had been knocked on its side. She crouched behind it, shouting for Andre to get down.
Andre ran, cradling Zayden in his arms. There was no time to do anything other than get Zayden to safety.
He dodged blasts, fleas, and slid in beside her.
Tia reached for Zayden. Andre lowered him gently to the ground. She grabbed a towel from her apron and wiped his face.
“What’s going on? Are we under attack?”
Andre lifted his head just enough to look over the truck. Tia started wrapping his right leg.
He refused her care.
“I’m fine. Help Zayden.”
He scanned the buildings. Windows. Corners. Rooftops. Nothing but terrified people hiding behind walls. Someone was already tending the wounded.
This was not a feeling or position he liked being in.
He crouched lower. Zayden crawled next to him.
“I will get you to safety.”
“Where’s Carrow PD? What’s taking them so long?” Tia asked.
André didn’t answer. He couldn’t care less about Carrow PD. Someone had just made the mistake of attempting to kill his son. He would make them regret it.
There was another click, then the sound of something moving in the air.
A flea landed near Tia. She froze.
It clicked once.
A second time.
Zayden shouted her name.
Andre turned and jumped over her, landing between her and the flea.
“On my word, Tia. Get Zayden away from here.”
He searched the sky and grabbed the flea.
“Now, Tia.”
She grabbed Zayden by his arm. He hesitated, then ran. She lifted him, throwing him over her shoulder.
Andre dashed toward a parked car.
A movement in an alley to his right caught his attention. He paused. The flea twitched violently in his grip. He hurled it into the alley.
It had barely left his hand before it exploded.
The blast slammed him into the parked car.
He coughed blood and collapsed onto the pavement.
A woman’s scream came from behind him. She screamed again.
That’s when he saw it.
A collapsed metal sign had fallen across the street, pinning an unconscious young girl to the pavement. One end rested on a crushed car, the other pressed across the girl’s waist.
Her mother had been trying to lift it when another flea landed near them.
“Get away from my child!” she hissed. The sound scraped like sandpaper against the sudden silence of the alley.
She became a wall as she stepped in front of her child. Her spine snapped straight as she planted her feet wide.
Her knuckles turned white as her fingers coiled around the strap of her handbag.
“Send it towards me!” André shouted.
The woman’s eyes met his and she gritted her teeth.
The flea clicked.
She swung her bag.
André launched himself into the air. With a mechanical snap, the flea sailed towards him. His foot made contact. He kicked it towards the alley.
There was the second click.
The flea exploded when it made contact with an unknown figure.
A male’s scream came from the alley.
Andre ran to help the mother, kicking away new fleas as they landed near him. He noticed a burnt gloved hand clutching the alley corner wall.
“Help me!” the mother screamed. “I can’t lift it! She’s not breathing!”
He gently but firmly pushed the woman out of the way.
Andre squatted. He slid his fingers under the sign. “I am going to try to lift it. Be ready to pull her out.”
The woman shook her head and wrapped her arms under her daughter’s shoulder.
Tia had taken cover with Zayden inside a business down the street. She clutched his arm.
Andre gritted his teeth and lifted the sign inch by inch, exaggerating the effort.
Zayden’s eyes widened. He could tell his father wasn’t really struggling.
Once the sign was high enough, the mother freed her child.
He bit his lip as the woman hugged her child and ran away.
Andre didn’t realize it, but this was the moment that would shape Zayden’s future.
***
A local news crew screeched onto the scene, dodging flea attacks. The news van careened and crashed into a fire hydrant. Water sprayed as the crew dashed out of the van.
The reporter pointed at Andre, telling the cameraman to film him.
Across town, at that exact moment, LJ had walked into her apartment, a cup of coffee in hand. She stopped mid-step and nearly dropped the cup when she saw her living room.
It was fully furnished.
There was a sectional sofa, a coffee table, an accent chair, a TV stand with a television sitting on it.
A note on the coffee table caught her eye, and her fingers trembled.
Was this note from the man in shades?
She inhaled and sank onto the sofa, reading the note.
There was no signature; only the words Sorry About the Chair were written on it.
She flipped it over.
If these aren’t your vibe, the receipt’s under a sofa cushion.
She crumbled the note.
Her heart pounded as she reached for the television remote.
An image of Andre appeared on the screen.
There was a breaking news report.
“Andre!”
***
Flea stood above Andre on a light pole, dangling Zayden by his collar.
Andre’s gaze tracked the wide, squat build. The goggles didn’t hide him. Not from Andre.
“That’s my son, Felix!” Andre clenched his fists. “He has nothing to do with Larry firing you. Let him go!”
“Now!”
Flea stiffened, his free hand halting midway to his backpack. “A… Andre? How did you—?” His voice shook. “This isn’t personal. I didn’t know he was your son. I want Spant!”
Carrow PD pulled up, sirens blaring. Weapons drawn, officers took shelter behind their cars.
Andre’s fingers dug into his palms as his eyes locked on Flea and Zayden.
They ordered Andre to stand down.
***
He looked over his shoulder.
Tia’s bloody legs hung through the shattered recessed entry of the storefront. Broken glass, mannequins, and store displays lay in ruin around her unconscious body.
His eyes flicked back to the officers hiding behind their cars… then to Flea.
Andre refused.
The lead officer shouted orders to Flea.
“Release the boy!”
Flea’s eyes flared. “I didn’t mean for this…” He looked at Zayden. “Andre. I’m sorry.”
“Give me my son,” he demanded. “You will not get hurt, Felix.”
Flea nodded. He grabbed his goggles. His grip around Zayden’s neck loosened.
Then he heard a click.
Swarn’s click.
Andre’s breath faltered.
Flea stilled and his eyes darkened. His breath hitched as he lowered the goggles over his eyes.
“I want Spant!” he shouted. “I have a message for him.”
A SWAT member leaned from a nearby high-rise window.
“I’m in position,” the officer spoke into his tactical headset.
Andre heard the officer. He looked up, and his jaw clamped shut.
“Hold your position,” the lead officer ordered through his headset.
Flea reached into his backpack. He pulled out a small mechanical flea.
“This little device,” he said, “I call a biter.”
He pressed it briefly to Zayden’s chest, then tossed it onto an empty patrol car.
The biter exploded on contact.
Glass burst outward, metal screamed, and pavement shattered. Officers, the news crew, and civilians dove for cover as debris tore through the air.
Andre’s eyes narrowed.
He did not move.
Flea held another biter against Zayden’s chest.
“If Spant isn’t here in the next ten minutes… the boy dies!”
“Everyone back. NOW!!”
Andre’s eyes moved—rooftops, officers, cameras, civilians.
Angles. Witnesses. Exposure.
Every path led to the same outcome.
Save his son… lose everything else.