Tone didn’t shake or cry.She didn’t ask questions she wasn’t ready to hear the answers to.She was used to this life… she was born in to chaos and crazy.That should’ve made things easier, but somehow it didn’t.
I dragged my hands under the stream again, watching the last of the pink fade to nothing.
I would never admit it out loud—not to anyone—but I couldn’t stand the sight of blood.Not after.Not when it cooled and clung and congealed, reminding me too much of its purpose.
During?It was clean.Controlled.Necessary.
After?It was just… messy.
I rinsed my arms one last time until there was nothing left but clean skin and that dull sting of over-scrubbed flesh.Then I reached for the towel, drying off slowly, methodically.
The place Raze had sent me to was exactly what it needed to be.
Forgettable.
There was one bedroom and a small living space.The kitchen was barely big enough for one person to turn around in without hitting something.It was definitely unmemorable, the kind of place that no one looked twice at, and definitely not the lifestyle that Tone was accustomed to.
A safehouse that was temporary and disposable.Just like every other place I’d been living out of for the past month.
I reached for the hem of my shirt, peeling it off slowly.The fabric had stiffened where blood had dried into it, clinging in places before it finally gave.I tossed it aside without looking at it again.
There was no point dwelling on the past, no matter how near it felt.
The two men from tonight—my jaw tightened slightly when I thought about them—they’d been easy to manage.Too easy.And I didn’t like that.Because easy didn’t necessarily mean the end.
I straightened, grabbing a clean shirt from the back of a chair and dragging it over my head.
The sound of water running down the hallway told me Tone had found the shower.
I stepped out into the main room, grabbing the bottle from the table and pouring a glass without thinking.Vodka.Because some things didn’t change, no matter how far you ran.
I took a slow drink, letting the burn settle low in my chest as I leaned back against the edge of the counter.
Then I reached for my phone.Two faces stared back at me from the screen.The men from tonight.
I’d taken the photos before I torched them.The images were already moving through channels that ran quicker than law enforcement ever could.
If they existed, I’d find them.
My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
They’d followed her from the villa.Through the city.Out to the industrial estate.Patient.Focused.Unwavering.The question was—why?
I pushed off the counter, moving to the couch and dropped into it, elbows braced on my knees as I stared at the floor.
Was it Tone they were after?Or was it the name attached to her?Because those were two very different problems.And I didn’t like either of them.
She was taking her damn time in the shower.Too much time.
The water had been running long enough to turn from background noise into something that grated—steady, relentless, impossible to ignore.I checked the clock without meaning to, then again a minute later.
It was annoying that it felt like I was waiting.My jaw tightened as the realization hit and I dragged my gaze away from the bathroom door.
She got under my skin too easily.
Without effort.Without asking for permission.She just sat there idly, like she’d always had a place in my head and I’d been the last one to notice.
That was a problem.A serious one.
