The afternoon sun had shifted, dipping lower, casting long shadows across the alley beside Silver Key. The city still hummed around them, distant traffic rolling by, voices echoing from blocks away, but here—here it was unnervingly quiet.

Vivian stepped out into the light, and the blood on her hands felt too visible.

Noah walked beside her, unfazed, his movements easy, unhurried. He had stripped off his gloves the moment they exited, slipping them into his pocket like they were nothing more than an afterthought. His presence was solid, grounding in the worst way—he had done this before.

She hadn’t.

Her breathing was uneven, her pulse thudding erratically against her ribs.

People passed on the sidewalk, strangers who had no idea what had just happened beyond those doors. A group of teenagers laughed as they crossed the street. A woman pushed a stroller past the entrance, her expression tired but content.

Vivian stared at them blankly.

She felt wrong standing here, like she had somehow been pulled out of her own reality and dropped into someone else’s. Her clothes were soaked through with blood beneath Noah’s jacket. Vince’s blood. His blood.

The world kept moving like nothing had changed.

But Vivian had.

Noah stepped closer, his voice low, just for her. “Stay still.”

She tensed.

“Breathe,” he murmured, like he was giving her a kind instruction, like he wasn’t the reason she couldn’t.

Her fists clenched inside the sleeves of his jacket. She wasn’t trembling—she wasn’t allowed to tremble. If she did, people would notice.

Noah’s hand rested against the small of her back, steady, possessive, in control.

“Walk.”

She did.

Her legs felt unsteady, but she followed his lead, forcing herself to match his pace, to look normal as they blended into the street.

She kept expecting someone to stop them. Kept waiting for sirens, for an alarm, for some kind of sign that what they had just left behind was real.

Nothing came.

The sun dipped lower. The world kept turning.

Noah led her toward the curb, toward a car parked just outside the alley—a sleek, nondescript sedan, too clean to be his.

A burner car.

Vivian swallowed.

He opened the passenger door for her, waiting.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

She hesitated just long enough to see the amusement flicker across his face.

Then she climbed inside.

The streetlights blurred past in hazy streaks as Noah drove, the city shifting around them, becoming unfamiliar in the worst way. Vivian focused on the sound of the tires rolling over pavement, the rhythm of it, steady and predictable—the only thing predictable anymore.

She wanted to ask more.

Somewhere private.

The words felt wrong, curling around something in her chest she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She forced herself to swallow, throat aching. “Why?”

Noah exhaled, amused. “Do you really need to ask?”

Her fingers curled tighter beneath his jacket. “I’m not stupid.”

His smirk deepened. “No,” he said, voice smooth. “You’re not.”

That should have been a relief. Instead, it felt like something sharp, like he was dragging his thumb over the edge of a blade, testing how easily it would cut.

The car moved through a quieter part of town now. No crowded sidewalks, no traffic snarling behind them—just empty streets lined with shuttered businesses, the occasional flicker of a convenience store sign buzzing in the dusk.

The quiet pressed down on her.

She was alone with him.

He hadn’t spoken much since they left Silver Key, but he didn’t need to. His presence was enough. It filled the space between them like a physical thing, a tension that didn’t settle, didn’t ease, just waited.

Vivian forced herself to breathe evenly.

Noah glanced at her then, a quick flicker of movement, but enough that she felt it, the weight of his attention settling against her skin.

“You don’t need to look so nervous,” he murmured, voice light. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Vivian’s throat tightened.

She turned her head slowly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Noah grinned.

He didn’t ask what she meant.

Didn’t need to.

The car rolled to a stop outside a cheap, run-down motel, the kind where no one asked questions, where the night clerk wouldn’t bother remembering their faces.

Noah killed the engine, stretching his arms lazily before turning to her.

“Come on,” he said, voice smooth, easy. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

Vivian didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Because she knew it wasn’t true.

Noah didn’t wait for her. He pushed open his door, stepping out into the dim glow of the flickering motel sign.

Vivian’s fingers dug into the fabric of his jacket.

She didn’t want to go inside.

But she knew, deep in her bones, that she didn’t have a choice.

The motel was worse up close.

The Vacancy sign flickered weakly against the fading daylight, buzzing faintly with each pulse of neon light. The parking lot was cracked, weeds pushing through the cement, the air thick with the stale scent of cigarette smoke and old rain.

Noah shut his door with an easy click, stretching his arms like this was nothing more than a detour, an inconvenience. Vivian sat frozen in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into the sleeves of his jacket, unwilling to touch her own skin.

The blood was still there.

She could feel it.

Beneath her nails. Against her wrists. Dried into the fabric of her sweater, thick and clinging, as if her body had absorbed it.

She hadn’t even tried to wipe it off.

Noah stepped around the car, opening her door before she could decide whether she wanted to move or not. He leaned down slightly, too close, bracing his arm against the roof as he looked at her.

“Vivian.” His voice was calm, expectant.

She turned her head, just enough to meet his eyes.

Dark. Unreadable.

A quiet hum of amusement curled at the edge of his lips. “I don’t mind carrying you.”

A sharp pulse of something shot through her chest.

She moved before she could think, before she could process the threat in his words, the way he said them like he wasn’t bluffing. Her legs felt stiff, sluggish, like they had forgotten how to function, but she forced them to work, stepping out onto the uneven pavement.

Noah shut the door behind her, the sound firm, final.

A gust of wind rolled through the lot, and she pulled his jacket tighter around herself. It wasn’t from the cold.

It was the weight of the motel door in front of her.

It was the realization that, in less than a minute, she would be alone with him.

Noah walked ahead of her, past the row of rooms with peeling door numbers, heading straight for the office.

Vivian hesitated.

She could leave. Right now.

Turn, run, disappear into the street before he even knew she was gone.

But her body didn’t move.

Her pulse pressed against her ribs, hard, insistent, but her feet remained planted.

Because she knew, deep down, it didn’t matter.

Noah wouldn’t chase her.

He wouldn’t drag her back.

He wouldn’t need to.

She followed him inside.