I nod.
"Yes."
The word comes out steady.
Certain.
A leap of faith I didn't know I was capable of.
Something flickers in his expression—relief? Regret? I can't tell.
He nods back.
"Get in the car."
I move toward the vehicle.
Kai opens the door—the back seat, leather interior, tinted windows that block out the world.
I slide inside.
The seat is cool beneath me, still damp with the sweat that soaks through my costume. My blades dig into my back as I settle, uncomfortable but familiar.
Kai follows.
Closes the door.
The car begins to move—smooth, controlled, pulling away from the theater and the violence and everything I thought I understood about this moment.
We made it.
We escaped.
Everything is going to be?—
Something presses against my face.
Fabric.
Chemical smell.
Handkerchief.
My eyes go wide.
Chloroform.
He's drugging me.
Why is he drugging me?
I try to pull away, try to fight, but his grip is too strong and the chemicals are already working—flooding my system, dragging me toward unconsciousness.
Kai's other hand lifts something to his ear.
Phone.
He's making a call.
