Page 51 of Infamous

She doesn’t fill the silence with nervous chatter. She lets it breathe, lets it stretch taut between us until it hums with something alive.

When we reach her building, I stop dead, eyes sweeping over the place. Old stone, cracked steps, a lock that wouldn’t stop akid with a paperclip. The hallway beyond is dark, shadows where shadows don’t belong. My gut clenches.

“Are you safe here?” I ask. It comes out rougher than I want, like gravel in my throat.

She shifts, uncomfortable under my scrutiny. “Safe enough.”

I arch a brow. “Doesn’t look like it.”

Her laugh is soft, defensive. “What looks safe ever is?”

She’s not wrong.

I stay quiet too long, and it makes her fidget, running her hand over the strap of her bag. I let the silence grind down a moment more before I say, “Anything else I can do for you? Want me to check under your bed for lurking monsters? The serial killer in me has to ask.”

Not far off from the truth, sweetheart.

That gets her. She laughs, startled and bright, head tipping back, and it punches through my chest in a way I wasn’t ready for. My mouth even quirks before I can kill the reaction.

“No, thank you,” she says, shaking her head, still smiling. “I think I can manage the monsters on my own.”

If only you knew, little dove.

She thanks me again, her voice softer this time. Then she climbs the steps, pausing just long enough to glance back at me before vanishing into the dim stairwell.

The door closes behind her with a hollow click, and I stand there like an idiot on the sidewalk, staring at peeling paint and a busted lock that could be kicked in with half a thought.

Safe here? Not a fucking chance.

My fingers itch to follow, to climb those stairs and sweep the shadows from her apartment, to plant myself in that too-small space and make sure nothing gets close enough to touch her. But I don’t.

Instead I jam my hands into my jacket pockets and force my feet to move. The night stretches around me, loud, chaotic, butmy head is full of her. Her laugh - the startled, bright thing that slipped out when I mentioned monsters. The way her lips shaped my false name like she was branding me with it. The heat of her shoulder brushing mine in the dark.

She should be terrified of me. She was right - I could be a killer. Hell, I am one. She doesn’t even know how close to the truth she cut. But instead of fear, she gave me something else. Trust. Or maybe recklessness. Either way, it sticks to my skin like wet paint, impossible to scrub off.

I light a cigarette, but the taste is flat. Even the smoke can’t drown her out. I’m supposed to be a ghost, unseen, untouchable. And yet… tonight I lingered. Tonight I let hersee me.

Dangerous. Reckless. Addictive.

By the time I hit the corner, I know I’ll circle back before dawn. Just to make sure. Just to stand in the shadows and watch her windows until the city exhales. Because monsters don’t only hide under beds. Some walk these streets, and some wear my face.

And I’ll be damned if one of them gets to her before I do.

32

NADIA

I’m just finishing a surgery when the page comes through.

Chief Kellerman requests to see you.

The secretary barely glances up when I arrive. “You can go in, Dr. Reed. They’re expecting you.”

They.

The word lands wrong.

Inside, the air feels too still.