Painted Sins

t happened at the gallery kept replaying in my mind-Lorenzo's intense stare, the unspoken accusati

dn't feel right. I paused at the entrance, every instinct telling me to turn ar

ooked normal-minimalist decor, art pieces perfectly placed on the walls. But as I looked close

had be

fear. In the bedroom, I found clear evidence of an intruder. The closet door was open, cl

important documents from my old life-the life I left behind five years ago.

t vibrated in my hand. An unknown number flashed on

voice was sh

d voice rasped. "Or shou

o one was supposed to

demanded, tryin

ns, little girl. Did you t

mind racing. Was this connected

y. "I want you to know that you

said, moving to the window. The street bel

aintings, Aria. It's alway

aintings. Of course. How

old lighthouse," the voice continued. "Come al

yone," I lied, the wor

o that sweet old couple who own the cafe next to your galle

become like family to me over the past five years. The

out of thi

d. Midnight. The light

ne wen

k in. They knew who I was. They knew about my past. A

lection I got last month-a series of landscapes from a mysterious estate sale. I kn

aintings were at the ce

10:30 PM. An hour and a

ith clothes, cash, my emergency phone. As I zippe

d, my heart

ed against the dim light from the hall.

a familiar vo

eyes taking in the scene-the open safe,

e?" I asked, backing aw

wasn't armed. "I came to warn you

e? Abou

ou," he said, stepping closer.

to warn me? I left you at the altar, remembe

ation. "Despite everything, I never stopped caring about

pat, even though part of me wanted to

plied firmly. "They're already on the

outside. Car doors slammed, follow

der his breath. "

lowed Lorenzo to the window. He slid it open and climbed out onto the metal landing of

away!" a roug

ng out, bullets hitting the metal around us. I bit back a scream, focusi

weaving between dumpsters and abandoned boxes. I could hea

black car was waiting there, its engine quietly humming. He yanked

elled to t

suers reached the corner, their angry shouts fa

drenaline still rushing through me. Lorenzo's arm was st

ed gently, his eyes sc

, not trusting

voice. "We're going somewhere

face him. "The paintings," I said. "They want the paintin

not about what's in the paintings,

do you

he car swerved sharply. I was thrown

nd us," the

w two black SUVs closing in, their

h his body as the back window shattered i

to Lorenzo, my face pressed against his chest, as the

he world spun wildly. I felt the car

everything