Page 26 of To Die For

HARLAN

The apartment smells like disinfectant, and her.

It shouldn’t.

We scrubbed the place clean, wiped every trace, and packed in silence. But I still catch it, that faint trace of sweetness in the air.

She’s sleeping in the bed, small under the blanket, lashes dark against her cheeks. The glitter from her costume has worked its way into the sheets, a faint shimmer under the dim light. If she moved even once, I’d know, but she hasn’t stirred.

Adrian’s pacing. He’s always restless after a kill. Even now, when he’s trying to play calm, his hands keep twitching toward the knife at his belt. He hates loose ends, and Lila is the loosest one we’ve ever left breathing.

“We shouldn’t have brought her here,” he mutters.

Across the room, Black Mask doesn’t look up from the map spread across the table. He’s already three steps ahead… he always is.

“We couldn’t leave her there,” he says. His tone is flat, unreadable. “And I refuse to kill her just because she witnessed us killing someone.”

Adrian huffs a laugh, sharp and humorless. “And you think this is better? Leaving her in our bed?”

“Enough,” I say.

The word comes out harder than I mean it to. They both look at me, waiting for the explosion that doesn’t come. I just keep staring at her, at the faint rise and fall of her chest.

She’s alive. That’s what matters.

She shouldn’t be, but she is.

Black Mask finishes folding the map. His gloves are already back on. “We have to move before sunrise. State line by noon.”

“Then what?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. We’ve done this before. New town, new names, new ghosts.

Adrian kicks the leg of the table, sending one of the empty bottles rolling across the floor.

“You really think she won’t talk?” he asks.

“She won’t,” I say.

He smirks. “You’re sure about that?”

I glance at her again. She’s still sleeping, deeper now. There’s a softness to her mouth that wasn’t there before. I remember the way she looked when she realized what we were, when the fear turned real. And then something else… Not surrender, not understanding, just… acceptance.

“She won’t,” I repeat.

Because I know her now, and she knows us.

She knows that running doesn’t work. That the maze doesn’t end when the walls fall away.

And she liked it, is what I have to remind myself. She watched me snap that man’s neck like it was nothing but a chicken bone, and she didn’t cower away. She reached for us… claimed us just like we claimed her.

Elias crosses the room and places the folded note on the nightstand beside her. He steps back, gives her one last look. “Let’s go.”

Adrian’s the first out the door. He doesn’t look back. He never does.

I stay a second longer. My hand hovers just above her hair, not touching—I don’t deserve to.

There’s a bruise on her throat. My doing. A mark that will fade, but not disappear. A reminder that last night was real.