Rain tapped against the glass like it wanted in.
Ivy sat in the back of the unmarked cruiser, arms wrapped around herself, eyes fixed on the window. The city was a smear of gray and neon, reflections of things too fast to see clearly. Her breath fogged up the glass.
Beside her, Elias drove in silence—one hand on the wheel, the other flexing like he wanted to punch something but hadn't earned the right yet.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Ivy asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Elias didn't look at her. "Not to people who lie."
Her mouth parted, but nothing came out. She wasn't surprised. He didn't trust her. Hell, she didn't even trust herself anymore.
"I'm not lying," she said finally.
He didn't respond.
The car turned down a quiet street, headlights carving shadows across brick walls. It was the kind of neighborhood that forgot its own name—a place where secrets buried themselves and waited for the rain to rot them through.
"You saw the ring," he said at last.
"Yes."
"You shouldn't have seen it. We kept that detail sealed."
"So what does that mean?"
"It means either you're connected to the killer, or you were supposed to be dead, too."
The words hit like a slap. Ivy looked away, hands shaking in her lap. "I didn't ask to see what I saw."
"No," Elias muttered, pulling the car to a stop in front of a squat apartment building. "But now that you have… you're in it. Deep."
---
Inside Ivy's Apartment
She lived alone. Third floor. No elevator. The hallway smelled like wet wood and old pasta.
Elias followed her in, silent as a ghost. Ivy's key trembled in the lock. The moment the door opened, she hesitated.
The lights were off. But the faint scent of smoke still clung to the air.
"I didn't light anything before I left," she murmured.
Elias pushed past her, gun drawn in seconds. His body moved like muscle memory—quick, precise, calm. Ivy watched from the threshold as he disappeared into the darkness of her living room.
A beat passed.
Then another.
"Ivy," he called. "You need to see this."
---
On the Coffee Table
A single red lipstick sat upright on a folded piece of paper.
Elias opened it with gloved hands. The writing was jagged, rushed, almost desperate.
Two words:
"Next time."
Her knees gave out.
Elias caught her before she hit the ground, arms strong and steady. For a second, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and the fear in her chest shifted—still heavy, but laced now with something else.
She pulled away. "He was here."
"Yes," Elias said, eyes scanning the room. "And he's watching you."
---
Outside
The black car was back.
It sat across the street, engine off, lights dead.
Ivy saw it from her bedroom window, heart pounding like a war drum. She didn't say anything. Not yet.
She just stood there, clutching the curtains, Elias's voice echoing in her head:
"You're in it. Deep."
But she couldn't look away.
Because she felt it.
Whoever was in that car… was looking right at her.
And smiling.
The city outside Ivy's apartment was quiet. Unnaturally so.
Rain slicked the windows, drawing warbled shadows across the floor. She sat curled on the edge of her couch like a porcelain doll someone forgot to put back in its box—fragile, silent, waiting to shatter.
Elias stood in her kitchen, arms folded, watching her with the eyes of a man who had stared at death too many times to flinch anymore.
"You're sure you locked the door?"
Ivy nodded slowly. "Deadbolt. Chain. Even slid the chair under the knob. I'm not stupid, Elias."
"No," he murmured. "You're scared."
That stung. She didn't want to be scared. She wanted to be furious. She wanted to scream and kick and find this monster who turned her friend's life into a headline. But the fear wrapped around her ribs like piano wire—tight, cold, and cutting deeper every time she breathed.
He walked toward her and crouched beside the couch.
"I need you to tell me everything. Again."
She let out a bitter laugh. "Isn't five times enough?"
"Humor me."
Her hands trembled in her lap. "I left Kara's hotel room to grab us snacks from the lobby vending machine. I was gone ten minutes. When I came back..."
She paused. Swallowed hard.
"There was so much blood. I slipped in it before I even realized what it was."
Elias said nothing, just watched her, letting the silence do the work.
"I saw her on the bed. Eyes wide open. That stupid silver dress she bought for her birthday... it was soaked."
"And the man?" he asked, voice low.
"He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Suit. Face in shadow. But he turned to look at me as I ran. That's when I saw the ring."
Elias leaned forward. "Describe it."
"Thick. Gold. Square face. Some kind of symbol engraved in it. Looked old. Antique."
He stiffened. "What kind of symbol?"
"I don't know. It was fast. But it looked like... a snake?"
That was new. She hadn't said that before.
"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" he asked.
"I didn't remember until just now. Maybe it's nothing—"
"Maybe it's not."
He stood abruptly and walked to the window, parting the blinds just a sliver. The black sedan was still there. No plates. No movement.
"Your apartment's not safe anymore."
"I figured that out when someone left a note and lipstick on my coffee table," she said flatly.
"We'll move you somewhere safer."
"Where? Your place?" she shot back, regretting it the moment it left her lips.
Elias turned, eyebrow arched. "That what you want?"
Her breath caught.
She didn't answer.
---
They left at 3:12 a.m.
No lights. No sirens. Just Elias's hand on her lower back and the steady weight of the gun holstered under his coat.
They didn't speak during the drive. The city bled past in streaks of amber and shadow. Ivy watched her reflection in the passenger window, faint and ghostlike.
"Where are we going?" she asked finally.
"A safe house. One only two people know about."
"Who's the second?"
"You."
He wasn't joking.
The safe house was buried in the edge of Lincoln Park—a narrow brick townhouse behind a rusting black gate. Elias keyed in the code like it was muscle memory and led her inside.
No photos on the walls. No furniture except the essentials. Just clean lines and cold silence.
"You've used this before," she said.
He nodded. "Once."
She wanted to ask more, but something about his expression told her not to.
---
4:00 a.m.
She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Elias sat outside the bedroom door, gun resting on his thigh, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound.
She couldn't sleep. Not with the image of Kara's eyes staring at her from the void of memory.
"Ivy," Elias's voice called softly from beyond the door.
She sat up. "Yeah?"
"You awake?"
"Yes."
A pause. Then: "Come here."
---
The Living Room
She padded out, barefoot and quiet. He didn't look up when she sat across from him.
"I've been chasing this guy for six years," Elias said, his voice stripped bare. "Five girls before Kara. All blonde. All between twenty and twenty-five. All had some connection to city government, media, or law enforcement."
Her blood ran cold. "What connection did Kara have?"
"None I could find. Until you."
She blinked. "Me?"
"You're in pre-law. Interned at two courthouses. You've brushed elbows with people who wear rings like the one you described."
She shook her head. "You think this is my fault?"
"No. I think you're the next link in the chain."
The words hovered between them like breath in the cold.
"I'm going to catch him," Elias said, meeting her eyes. "But I need you to be smart. Careful. And honest."
She stood, slowly walking toward him. He rose to meet her.
"I'm scared, Elias."
"I know."
Their faces were close now. His hands hovered near her arms but didn't touch. She could feel the pull—magnetic, inevitable. But neither of them moved.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked.
"Because if I don't, no one will."
She leaned in. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just the promise of one.
Outside, the city shuddered in its sleep.
Inside, a killer smiled in the dark.