The soft clink of gsses, the murmur of conversation, the occasional burst of ughter—

  The bar was alive with warmth and celebration.

  Finals were finally over.

  Everyone around me was drinking, ughing, unwinding after the brutal stress of the past few weeks.

  I should’ve been doing the same.

  Instead, I felt like an outsider looking in.

  I sat by the window with Leah and Mathilda, watching them enjoy the night. I was supposed to be having fun too.

  I wasn’t.

  Because no matter how hard I tried to push it away—

  My mind kept circling back.

  The abandoned warehouse. The body. The mafia.

  Him.

  “Psyche?”

  Leah’s voice pulled me back.

  I blinked, realizing too te that I had been staring at nothing.

  “You’re zoning out again,” she said, giving me a suspicious look.

  I quickly forced a neutral expression. “I’m just… a little tired.”

  “Tired?” Mathilda arched an eyebrow. “Tired from exams, or tired from something else?” Her lips curled slightly. “Or is there something you’re not telling us?”

  I shook my head a little too fast. “Nothing. Seriously.”

  Leah didn’t look convinced.

  But before she could press further—

  “You know what’s weird?” Leah said, picking up her phone. “Remember that warehouse murder I told you about st week?”

  Every muscle in my body tensed.

  Not this again.

  Mathilda frowned. “What about it?”

  Leah scrolled through her phone, then turned the screen toward us.

  There was nothing.

  “It’s gone,” she said, brows knitting together. “I tried looking it up yesterday. No updates. No new reports. The police haven’t said a word.”

  The story was erased.

  I clenched my fingers around my gss.

  Someone had buried the news.

  Which meant—

  Someone wanted it gone.

  “That’s suspicious,” Mathilda murmured. “You think it was bigger than they let on?”

  I swallowed hard, trying to keep my face neutral.

  I reached for my drink, taking a small sip. The gss felt colder than it should have.

  The walk back to my dorm was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  The night air carried a sharp chill. Streetlights stretched long, thin shadows over the pavement.

  Everything looked normal.

  So why didn’t it feel normal?

  My own footsteps echoed lightly against the sidewalk.

  Then—

  Another set of footsteps.

  I stopped walking.

  The sound stopped too.

  My skin prickled.

  I took a step forward.

  The other footsteps followed.

  My pulse hammered. I was being followed.

  I quickened my pace.

  So did they.

  I turned a corner—

  A hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back.

  "Don't move if you want to live."

  The voice was cold, low, right against my ear.

  Panic shot through me. I twisted, trying to break free—but their grip was too strong.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but another hand cmped over my lips.

  What the hell is this?!

  "You thought no one would notice?"

  The voice was different this time. A second man.

  "You thought you could help him and just walk away?"

  They knew.

  They knew I had helped him.

  "Talk," the second one demanded, tightening his grip. "What did you see that night?"

  What did I see?

  I wanted to say nothing.

  But the truth was—

  I didn’t know.

  Had I seen something? Had I missed something?

  Had I already stepped into something I didn’t understand?

  Before I could even process the thought—

  —PFFT.

  The soft, suppressed sound of a gun.

  One of them dropped.

  I gasped, jerking my head up—

  And I saw him.

  The man I never should have saved.

  He stood there, gun in hand, eyes as cold and empty as the night itself.

  One shot.

  One kill.

  And I had no idea if he was saving me—

  Or pulling me deeper into something I should’ve never been part of.

  The man holding me colpsed instantly.

  The muffled sound of a suppressed gunshot still rang in my ears.

  I gasped, stumbling backward as his body hit the pavement, blood pooling beneath him. The scent of gunpowder and iron thickened the air.

  Everything had happened in complete, terrifying silence.

  And standing just a few feet away—

  Kevin.

  His dark silhouette blended into the shadows of the alley. The gun in his hand was steady, unwavering, even as the st tendrils of smoke curled from the suppressor.

  His eyes—

  Cold. Calcuted.

  Like this was nothing.

  “Let her go.”

  Kevin’s voice was quiet. Not a yell, not a demand—just a statement.

  But it didn’t need to be loud to be a threat.

  The man still gripping my arm flinched. His fingers sckened for a fraction of a second.

  That second was all Kevin needed.

  PFFT.

  Another shot.

  The second man hit the ground before he could even react.

  I stopped breathing.

  It happened too fast.

  I hadn’t even blinked.

  The only one left standing was the third man—the one who had been asking me questions. He jolted back, hands raised slightly, like his body was deciding whether to fight or flee.

  Kevin moved.

  Too fast.

  Too smooth.

  But—

  I noticed it.

  For just a split second, as he stepped forward—his movement faltered.

  Barely. A slight hesitation. A fraction of a dey.

  Like he was forcing himself to move normally.

  He’s still hurt.

  The realization sent a strange shiver through me.

  But Kevin didn’t acknowledge it.

  Instead, he grabbed the remaining man by the colr and smmed him against the wall.

  Hard.

  "Who sent you?"

  His voice was low, calm—but that only made it worse.

  The man choked out a strangled breath, hands scrambling at Kevin’s wrist, his body trembling from more than just the impact.

  He didn’t answer.

  Kevin’s grip tightened slightly.

  "I’ll ask once."

  Silence.

  Then—

  Kevin sighed.

  He pulled the trigger.

  PFFT.

  The body slumped against the wall, sliding down in eerie, suffocating quiet.

  My breath hitched. Adrenaline smmed into my system all at once.

  The air felt too thin.

  I didn’t even realize I had taken a step back until—

  Kevin’s hand caught my wrist.

  Firm. Unshaking. But not harsh.

  I snapped my head up, panic surging. "Wait—what the hell is this?! Where are you taking me?!"

  He didn’t answer.

  He just started walking.

  Dragging me with him.

  I twisted, trying to wrench free, but his grip held firm.

  Not crushing.

  But unyielding.

  I gnced at him, pulse hammering, and for the first time—

  I noticed.

  The way his jaw clenched slightly.

  The slight tension in his shoulder.

  The way he held his arm just a bit too stiffly, even as he gripped me.

  He’s in pain.

  But he wasn’t showing it.

  Not outright.

  Not unless you were looking for it.

  "Kevin," I blurted out, trying again to pull away. "Where are we going?"

  He didn’t answer right away.

  And then—

  He spoke.

  "Psyche."

  My name.

  A single word, spoken in a quiet, unreadable tone.

  I froze.

  He knew my name.

  I never told him my name.

  I felt a slow, creeping chill coil around my spine.

  How long had he been watching me?

  How much did he know?

  Kevin didn’t slow his pace.

  He stopped only when we reached a sleek, bck Audi parked near the alley entrance.

  Matte finish. Tinted windows. Low profile.

  Like a predator waiting in the dark.

  Kevin opened the passenger door.

  "Get in."

  I swallowed hard. "Where are you taking me?"

  A pause.

  Then, finally—

  "Somewhere safe."

  Safe.

  Safe from what?

  Or from who?

  I hesitated. My reflection in the car window looked unfamiliar—like someone I didn’t recognize.

  I should walk away.

  But I already knew.

  There was no walking away from this.

  Not anymore.