Lucas didn’t hesitate. “I’ll find him. You go home.”

  Vivian had nothing left in her to argue. She should have pushed back, told him that this wasn’t over, that she wasn’t ready to walk away, that she had every right to be part of whatever happened next. But exhaustion had dulled every sharp edge she had left, dragging at her limbs, slowing her thoughts, making the weight of everything feel unbearable. The need for answers had kept her upright, but now that it was slipping away, sleep was the only thing her body demanded.

  Lucas studied her for a moment, waiting for her to object, to fight him on this. When she didn’t, he gave a small nod and turned toward the kitchen. “For now, just rest. If you’re hungry, there’s cup noodles.”

  The thought of food made her stomach twist. Even the mention of it sent a fresh wave of nausea rising in her throat. She shook her head without speaking.

  Lucas didn’t argue, but he reached for a water bottle, twisted the cap off, and handed it to her. “Drink.”

  She took it, mostly because refusing seemed pointless. The water was lukewarm, plastic-tasting, but she forced herself to swallow a few mouthfuls before lowering it.

  Lucas barely acknowledged it before he gestured toward the hallway. “Bed’s in there.”

  Her body locked up before she could stop it.

  She didn’t want to sleep in a room she didn’t know, behind a door she wasn’t sure she wanted to close. The thought of being alone in an unfamiliar space made her breath come too fast, made her fingers dig into the fabric of the hoodie.

  Lucas didn’t acknowledge the hesitation, but after a moment, he added, “There’s a lock.”

  Her grip tightened. He wasn’t offering reassurance. He wasn’t pretending this wasn’t a problem. He was just giving her a fact and leaving her to figure out what to do with it.

  He sat in the chair near the entrance, lowering himself into it without another word. His movements were slow, deliberate, but his position wasn’t casual. His back was against the wall, his body angled so he could see both the front door and the windows. His breathing remained even, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t relaxed. He was waiting.

  Vivian didn’t move. Her body felt too heavy, her mind too scattered. She should have gone into the bedroom, shut the door, locked it, buried herself under the blankets, and forced herself to sleep. Instead, she lowered herself onto the couch, curling in on herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

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  Lucas didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t turn his head or shift in his chair.

  At some point, exhaustion pulled her under.

  When she woke, the apartment was dark. The only light came from the streetlamps outside, their glow pressing weakly through the blinds. The air had cooled, but something rough and heavy was draped over her shoulders. Her fingers twitched as she reached up, brushing against the coarse fabric. A blanket.

  She hadn’t put it there.

  It was thick, the kind meant for function, not comfort. It smelled faintly of dust and something sharp, but it was warm.

  Lucas hadn’t moved.

  He was exactly where he had been before, still watching the door, still keeping his body angled toward the entrance, still waiting for something she couldn’t see.

  She sat up, rubbing a hand over her face. She didn’t ask when he had covered her with the blanket, and he didn’t offer an explanation.

  He pushed himself to his feet. “Get your shoes on.”

  She blinked at him, still groggy. “What?”

  “You’re going home.”

  She turned toward the window, her mind still catching up. The sky outside was dark, the neon lights of the city stretching long against the pavement.

  “Now?”

  Lucas grabbed his jacket. “You’re not staying here.”

  She wasn’t surprised, but hearing it aloud still left something uneasy in her chest.

  He tossed her the hoodie she had never properly put on. She caught it automatically.

  “Wear it.”

  She pulled it over her head without thinking. The fabric was heavy, the sleeves slipping over her wrists. It smelled like cigarettes, something clean, something sharp.

  Lucas checked the locks, the windows, the street outside. He scanned everything before he opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t take her directly to her dorm. That would have been careless. Instead, he took the long way, cutting through alleys and side streets, staying off main roads. He walked like someone who had done this before, someone who knew exactly when to change direction, when to stop, when to listen for footsteps that weren’t his own.

  Vivian followed without speaking.

  They stopped a few blocks from campus.

  Lucas didn’t look at her when he spoke. “Walk the rest of the way back yourself.”

  She hesitated, glancing at the distance. It wasn’t far, but it wasn’t close either.

  “Fewer people will ask questions if you come back alone.”

  She adjusted the strap of her bag, her fingers twisting in the fabric. “What are you going to do?”

  Lucas didn’t hesitate this time. “I’ll deal with Noah.”

  The words weren’t a suggestion. The decision had already been made.

  She should have been relieved. She should have felt grateful that someone else was taking this on, that she wasn’t going to be the one hunting for answers alone anymore. But something in her hesitated. She didn’t know if she was willing to let Lucas be the only one searching for the truth.

  She didn’t know if she was ready to stop looking.

  She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Lucas pulled her slightly to the side. His grip wasn’t rough, wasn’t forceful, but there was an unshakable firmness to it.

  She stilled immediately.

  Footsteps.

  Slow. Measured. Unhurried.

  She barely had time to process the sound before a voice followed, light and amused, settling into the space between them like it belonged there.

  “What are the chances, Vivian?”