Vivian sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the unfamiliar reflection in the side mirror. Short hair framed her face awkwardly, a style she hadn't chosen freely but out of necessity, another layer of disguise that felt alien. Her fingertips brushed absently over her new driver's license, tracing the letters of an unfamiliar name—Amy Chan. The sound felt wrong on her tongue, empty of meaning, like speaking a foreign language she didn’t understand.

  Noah eased into the driver's seat beside her, effortlessly adjusting the rearview mirror. He opened the compartment by his seat and the discreetly put away the box Isaac had handed him earlier, filled with the rest of their new passports, birth certificates, and other documents marking their official transition into their new identities.

  “Amy Chan,” Noah said softly, reading the new name over her shoulder. A small smile tugged at his lips.

  Vivian glanced at him briefly, unsettled by being addressed with the new name. She didn't respond directly, slipping the license into her wallet, the unfamiliar weight grounding her in an uncomfortable reality. Her eyes drifted to Noah's new license, noting the common, forgettable name—Alex Wong. Their identities were intentionally ordinary, lost easily among countless others, offering safety through anonymity.

  Beside her, Noah started the car smoothly, steering them into traffic.

  They packed the storage unit quickly and quietly, the silence between them reflective but not hostile. Vivian felt distant, lost in the swirl of conflicting emotions. Each item she left behind seemed like shedding another fragment of herself, another piece of the life she'd once known slipping irretrievably away.

  Noah observed her unusual quietness, thoughtfully, without comment.

  As

  When they reached the Airbnb, Vivian stepped from the car into a secluded driveway shielded by dense greenery and towering trees. Her pulse quickened at the cottage’s charming, romantic appearance—pastel walls blending gently with the surrounding foliage, quaint rocking chairs inviting comfort on the porch beneath a softly glowing vintage light. It felt picturesque, safe, and utterly unsettling.

  "An Airbnb?" Vivian asked skeptically.

  Noah smiled faintly, checking the locks methodically. "No one’s going to look for our ghosts in a romantic cottage escape."

  Vivian hesitated, acknowledging the uncomfortable logic with a reluctant nod, anxiety twisting slightly at the intimate implication of his choice.

  Inside, the cottage felt immediately inviting, bathed in warm, golden light. Plush rugs cushioned polished hardwood floors, exposed beams overhead exuding rustic charm. Gentle lighting from vintage lamps filled the rooms with a comforting, inviting warmth Vivian couldn’t seem to connect with. Every careful detail—the velvet loveseat, the stone fireplace stacked neatly with logs, a careful arrangement of wine glasses—felt foreign, as though it belonged to someone else’s life entirely.

  She moved slowly toward the loveseat, settling cautiously onto the plush cushions, fingers grazing a knitted throw draped across the back. The texture was soft and inviting, yet it failed to pierce the numbness enveloping her. Vivian’s eyes drifted unfocused toward the fireplace, struggling vainly to anchor herself in the strange, surreal reality around her.

  Behind her, Noah continued his methodical inspection, his careful movements both reassuring and unsettling. The air between them thickened with unspoken words, tension that neither chose to address directly, leaving Vivian caught in a fragile, uncertain silence.

  She wasn’t certain how long she’d been sitting there, numb and distant, when suddenly she realized Noah was beside her, the medicine kit in his hands. He gently took hold of her bandaged hand in his, cradling it carefully as he began unwrapping the dressings with practiced precision.

  Vivian watched him silently, noticing how Noah’s posture had shifted, losing the casual slouch he’d adopted earlier, replaced instead by his familiar meticulous motions. The gentle, methodical movements felt painfully familiar, stirring something deep within her chest. Her breath caught sharply, tears prickling behind her eyes as she realized that this side of him—quietly attentive, careful, controlled—was now the only remaining connection she had to the life she’d once known.

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  Her fingers twitched instinctively, suddenly desperate to cling to him, desperate to cling to the fragile remnants of the girl she once was. Yet even as that longing flared within her, memories returned unbidden—his chilling detachment when he shut the motel door on her after Vince was killed, the cold indifference following Mochi’s death, and the frightening ease with which he’d discarded his previous identity. The link between them, between her old life and the new, suddenly seemed tenuous—weak and fragile, ready to shatter at any moment, leaving her lost, or worse.

  Noah removed the stitches quietly, allowing the quiet to settle, careful not to push her. When he finished, he cradled her hand in his, lifting it softly to his lips and brushing a tender kiss across her fingers.

  At his touch, Vivian inhaled sharply, startled from her spiraling thoughts. Her eyes rose slowly to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark with restrained longing and cautious concern

  “It’s just a few new clothes,” he said softly, his eyes holding hers intently, “a haircut, a piece of plastic, and some paper with a random name on it. But you’re still you.”

  The words hit her harder than she expected. Before she could suppress it, a sob escaped, and Noah’s arms caught her immediately. Her hands pressed against his chest, clutching his shirt so hard her knuckles whitened. She buried her face in the back of her fists, sobs wracking her body as the stress, anxiety, fear, and loss of the recent days rolled off her in waves.

  Noah held her firmly, guilt shadowing his features as her tears soaked into his shirt, her body trembling in his grasp.

  Gradually, her sobs began to quiet, giving way to uneven, ragged breathing. Noah allowed her space, holding her patiently until she had calmed enough for him to gently attempt to look at her face. But Vivian pulled him closer, burying her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder.

  The brush of her breath on his skin stilled him, and he fought the fierce impulse to take her, press her closer, taste her.

  “Viv?” His voice was hoarse, breathy, unsure.

  Her words tumbled out before she could stop them. “If I can’t find her, there’s nothing left. Nothing but you.”

  His grip tightened instinctively around her, her words igniting something deep, dark, possessive within him.

  “And you’ll leave me when you’re bored, or worse,” she continued, her voice barely audible.

  Or worse.

  A chill rippled through him, confusion tightening his expression. He gently pulled back, studying her carefully. Vivian’s gaze remained distant, fixed downward, lost somewhere far beyond his reach. He knew changing herself, her identity, would be jarring, but he hadn’t expected this.

  Was this what had been bothering her? Noah searched his mind, trying to recall what could have triggered this moment. Had he said something? Done something to scare her?

  “Viv, that won’t happen,” he said firmly, desperate to reach her, to reassure her, to pull her back from the edge where she now teetered.

  “It’s not fair,” she whispered brokenly, eyes still distant and glassy, haunted by ghosts he could not see. “I did everything right. And now, it’s all gone. Everyone is gone.” Vivian could feel the edges slipping around her, pulling her deep into a place inside that she kept buried deep. There was always, always, so much blood.

  Noah stared at her, sensing she wasn’t fully present. Her mind had drifted somewhere else, some other time, a dark corner she’d been pushed into—by him, by everything.

  He needed to bring her back.

  Carefully, gently, he took her face in his hands, tilting it upward until their gazes met.

  He froze momentarily, his breath catching sharply at the sight of her. It was all he could do to hold still as he looked at her face, deliciously flushed from crying, her eyes lost and hazy as they stared into him, her hair falling in strands across her pale skin, fragile and beautiful in front of him.

  “Viv,” he murmured steadily, the words feeling heavy and thick, “listen to me.”

  A flicker stirred in her eyes. Recognition clawing through faintly in her gaze, drawing her back slowly toward him.

  “I will never, ever, hurt you,” he said fervently, intensity blazing in his dark eyes.

  His heart quickened painfully, vulnerability and something darker intertwining within him as he spoke again, softer this time.

  “And even if everything changes,” he continued steadily.

  Her hazy eyes watched him, stirring slightly, listening for something he knew she needed to hear.

  “I won’t leave you.”

  A darkness flickered to life in her eyes, the same darkness he’d seen the night she killed Vince’s murderer, the night she forced him to interrogate Sammy despite her drugged state, the chilling coldness inside her that appeared occasionally, both thrilling and terrifying him.

  “Promise?” Her voice was low.

  His voice felt thick. “Promise.”

  Something shifted within her visibly, the haziness clearing from her eyes, replaced by something else—something dark and intense.

  Her hands slowly unfurled from his shirt, sliding deliberately upward, her fingertips tracing the sensitive skin along his neck, brushing tenderly against his jaw.

  He inhaled sharply, tension gripping every muscle in his body as Vivian slowly leaned closer, her breath brushing lightly across his lips.

  And then she closed the final, tiniest gap between them, taking his mouth fiercely, possessively—staking an unmistakable claim over him. Hers.