Page 181 of Their Arrangement

But I didn’t move. Because what if they looked at me like I was dirt? What if they stopped watching me? What if they never touched me again? And worse? What if they still did? Even knowing everything?

I didn’t trust myself not to say yes. Not to crawl to one of them. Not to beg. For pain. For punishment. For the kind of ruin I already knew how to survive.

So I sat. On the floor. In the stall. Phone in my lap. Chain in my hand. Body still aching. And whispered the one truth I hadn’t admitted yet?—

“I want them more than I want to be forgiven.”

26

CLOE

The city never feels quiet.

But tonight?

It was dead. No horns. No music.

Not even the usual shuffle of feet near my building’s entrance. Just the sound of my own boots against concrete. The whisper of my coat collar rustling against my neck.

And the high-pitched whine of panic still ringing somewhere behind my ribs. The air was colder than I expected. It wrapped around my legs and slid under the hem of my coat like it had teeth.

The streets felt too wide.

The shadows too long.

I kept my phone in my hand the entire walk. Didn’t check it. Didn’t look at the screen. Just held it like maybe it would shield me if something went wrong.

I hadn’t heard from Selene. Not at midnight. Not the morning after. Not all day. And somehow, that was worse. The absence wasn’t mercy. It was threat. The kind of silence you getright before something bad happens. The kind of stillness animals feel before the snare snaps shut.

I walked faster. Not running. But close. Head down. Eyes sharp. I passed two people near the crosswalk. Didn’t look at them. They didn’t look at me. But my skin still crawled. Like maybe one of them knew something I didn’t. Like maybe everyone did.

I reached the building. Didn’t take the elevator. Couldn’t. Couldn’t stand the idea of doors closing behind me. Of being trapped. Of not being able to run. I climbed the stairs. One floor. Then another.

By the third, my legs started to burn. By the fifth, my breath was catching. By the seventh? My hand shook on the railing. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I just climbed.

And when I reached the top? I knew. Something was off. The hallway was too dim. One of the lights near my door had burned out. Or been smashed. It crunched under my boot when I stepped on the shards.

I stopped walking. Just for a second. Just long enough to listen. But there was nothing. No footsteps. No voices. No creak of wood or groan of metal. Just the hum of panic clawing up my spine.

I reached for my keys. Dropped them. Swore under my breath and bent to retrieve them with shaking fingers. The lock turned harder than usual. Like something inside didn’t want to let me in.

I stepped inside. Flicked on the light. Everything looked the same. The coat on the hook. The soft yellow glow above the kitchen sink. The pillow I always left slightly askew on the couch. Normal. But nothing felt normal.

I stood just inside the door too long. Breathing like someone had punched the wind out of me. Tried to move. To lock the door. To set the chain.

But then I felt it.

Not a touch.

Not a sound.

Just…a breath.

Behind me.

Close.

Too close.