Chapter 11 – The Silence After.

  The job was done. Blood rinsed from his hands, but not his head.

  Grim sat alone in a dimly lit laundromat. The hum of the dryers was the only sound. Low, steady, almost meditative. It calmed him down.

  He didn’t need to be here. He had a place now. A penthouse with marble floors and tinted windows.

  But something about this place felt right.

  Maybe it was the flickering lights, or the quiet of the place.

  Or maybe it was the fact that no one ever asked questions here.

  A black duffel bag sat beside him, soaked at the corners. Not from rain. But blood.

  He stared at it.

  Fifty grand, maybe more. For… Maybe thirty minutes of work, a bullet, and a package he didn’t ask about.

  The kind of job, that made you rich if you didn’t think.

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  The kind that stayed in your bones if you did it just once.

  The metal bench creaked as someone sat next to him. He didn’t have to look.

  “Ash,” he said.

  She didn’t answer. Just leaned back, crossed her legs, tilted her head toward the ceiling like she could read the cracks.

  Silence stayed in the room for a while.

  “You ever wonder,” she replied, finally, “what happens if we just stop?”

  Grim’s jaw clenched.

  He wanted to answer. But the question wasn’t one with answers. Not for people like him.

  He glanced sideways.

  She was dressed down today. Grey hoodie, black jeans, hair imperfectly tied back. She looked like someone who could vanish without leaving a single trace behind.

  “You stop,” he muttered. “You start thinking.”

  She smiled faintly. “Dangerous stuff.”

  A long silence.

  Then she nodded at the bag. “That it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Then what?”

  Grim didn’t know.

  The plan had ended with the money. And money always asked for more.

  His hands curled into fists, nails stabbing into his skin. He thought it would feel better than this. Cleaner. Like the world would finally make space for him.

  Instead, everything felt... louder.

  “I keep moving,” he said at last.

  Ash turned to him. “And when do you stop?”

  Grim met her eyes. His were hollow. Tired. Like sleep was a thing for other people.

  “When I feel something.”

  Another hum from the dryer. The smell of detergent.

  Ash nodded slowly, stood, and walked to the door. And before she left, she looked back.

  “There’s nothing at the end, Grim. Just quieter ghosts.”

  She left.

  And Grim sat alone with the bag, the flickering, and the silence.