The tape recorder was never supposed to be there.
It was tucked inside a zipped pocket of Ivy's backpack—the one she hadn't touched since the night of Kara's murder. She only opened it now because Elias asked her to check for anything she might've brought with her from the hotel. Anything at all.
And there it was.
A cheap little black recorder. No label. Just a play button and a full battery.
Her stomach dropped.
She didn't remember packing it. Didn't remember owning it.
---
"Did you listen to it?"
Elias stood at the doorway, his presence calm but sharp. Ivy held the recorder like it was made of glass and bones.
She shook her head. "No. Not yet."
"Play it."
She hesitated. "What if it's… from that night?"
"Then we need to hear it."
Ivy clicked the button.
Click. Hiss. Silence.
Then a voice.
> "This is Kara. If I end up dead, I want someone to know why."
Ivy froze.
Elias took a step closer. Neither of them breathed.
> "He said he likes blonde girls. Said I reminded him of someone. I thought it was a joke. But then I found the envelope."
The tape crackled. Ivy's hands were shaking now.
> "I shouldn't be recording this, but I'm scared. He said not to tell anyone. Said he'd make me 'a legend.' That I'd be remembered."
A pause.
Then:
> "If anything happens, it's someone high up. You won't believe it. You won't believe who—"
The tape cut off.
Just like that.
Ivy stared at Elias. "She knew."
"She knew something," he said, eyes scanning the room like the walls might have answers.
"Someone must've planted this in my bag," Ivy whispered.
"Or Kara put it there herself."
They sat in silence. The air had shifted. Heavier now. Like whatever was hunting them had just stepped closer.
---
Later That Night
The safe house felt smaller.
Elias paced. Ivy sat curled on the armchair, wrapped in a blanket that didn't do much to fight off the cold crawling up her spine.
"Does Kara mention a name?" he asked.
"No. But the way she said it... like it would shock us. Like it was someone untouchable."
"There's a list of people that fits," Elias muttered. "And none of them like being questioned."
He moved toward the window and pulled back the curtain just a sliver.
Ivy studied him. The way he never really relaxed. The constant low thrum of tension in his shoulders. Like he was at war, even here.
"You've been through this before," she said.
He didn't turn around.
"Yes."
"What happened?"
Elias was quiet a long time.
"She was a witness. Like you. Got too close. Trusted the wrong person."
"Was it the same guy?"
"Don't know." His voice was lower now. "We thought we had him. All signs pointed to one man."
"And?"
"Wrong guy."
He turned to face her. "I watched him break down in the interview room. He had no idea what we were talking about. It wasn't him. But by then it was too late. His name was everywhere. He... didn't make it."
Ivy swallowed. "So you stopped trusting your gut?"
"No," he said. "I just stopped trusting people."
---
The Next Day
The hallway smelled like burnt perfume.
Not strong. Just enough to notice if you were already afraid.
Ivy stood by the front door, frozen. A trail of something dark ran across the bottom edge—like someone dragged their finger along it while bleeding.
She didn't call Elias.
She just backed away.
Into the living room.
He was already there. He knew something was wrong the moment she stepped in. He read her face like a case file.
"What did you find?"
She pointed.
Elias went to the door. Stared at it for a long time.
No break-in. No forced entry.
Just... that faint, rusty smear.
And a smell Ivy recognized now. She would know it anywhere.
Smoke and citrus.
---
Later, Ivy's Room
She sat on the bed, knees pulled up, eyes red-rimmed from too many sleepless hours.
Elias stood by the doorway. Not close. Not far. Like he didn't know how close was too close.
"He wants you afraid," Elias said.
"It's working."
"You're not the kind of girl who gives in to fear."
She looked up at him. "How would you know?"
"I've seen it."
They didn't move.
Didn't blink.
The moment hung—thick with something neither of them wanted to name.
Then Ivy said, "He's watching me, isn't he?"
Elias didn't answer.
She already knew.
---
Meanwhile...
A man sat in a room with no windows, leafing through a notebook full of names.
He tapped his finger slowly on one page.
Then moved it to the next.
The photo of Ivy was pinned to the wall—centered. Clean.
Not alone.
Below it were five others. All smiling. All gone.
He stared at Ivy's picture for a long time.
Then whispered, "You'll break soon. They always do."