The face was a smear. The shoulders—broad, sloped—hit a nerve. Familiar enough to make my gut knot. Not proof. Just a shape that wouldn’t let go. Couldn’t be. But maybe.
I closed the file and opened it again, hoping the blur would sharpen. It didn’t. Just suspicion, heavy as stone.
I wouldn’t dump the still on Mila—not until I had more than a blurred frame. But the rest—the numbers, the dates—I’d show her. We were past pretending.
The money trail said Dunn was paying Langley. Langley worked at King. That meant someone inside King was feeding Dunn. Not rumor—transactions. And Mila’s mom being back at Dunn after working with King didn’t read as coincidence; it felt intentional. Dunn didn’t just push, he arranged. Put people where he wanted them, then tightened the net. And if I was all in with Mila—and I was, no question—that meant keeping her safe, no matter how deep the rot went.
Things had been quiet too long. Elise keeping her head down. Her dad pulling strings, maybe more than we knew. Elise running her own angles under his. It wouldn’t stay this way. Not for long.
I scrolled my phone, thumb hovering before hitting Theo’s name.
He picked up after the second ring, voice rough. “What’s up?”
“How’s it going with Tori?”
A pause. I heard the sound of a TV in the background, muffled laughter. “She’s scared of Elise,” he admitted. “Not just scared—controlled. They’ve cut her off. She’s not hearing things the way she used to.”
I clenched my jaw. “Is Tori willing to push back?”
“She’s trying.” Theo’s voice dropped. “She said she’d feel out Nina, see what she can get from her. But nothing yet. And her internship’s a dead end. She’s not close to the big players. At least not right now.”
I let the silence hang a beat. “Keep at it. Careful, though.”
“Always,” he said, then exhaled. “And, Luke? Watch your back. If Elise is quiet, it’s only because she’s loading the next shot.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I know.”
We hung up.
My phone buzzed again almost immediately.
Mila:Sneaking out. Mom passed out on the couch. Pick me up? Let’s go to the roof.
The screen dimmed in my hand, then turned black. I didn’t bother waking it back up.
Because right now? She was the only truth I needed.
I pulled up to the curb outside her house, headlights cutting across the front yard. The TV flickered blue in the living room.
The front door eased open a crack, then Mila slipped out. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, her hair loose and catching the porch light for a heartbeat before she darted across the grass. She slid into the SUV and pulled the door shut, her smile wide and electric.
“Hey,” she whispered, as if the night belonged to us.
“Hey.” My chest loosened just seeing her.
We drove a short way before I cut the engine behind the rink. No one would notice us here—only a few staff cars scattered across the lot.
“Side door.” I nodded toward the back. “Still got the key.”
Mila’s eyes flickered with something between mischief and challenge. “Of course you do.”
The lock clicked under my hand, the heavy metal door creaking just enough to set my nerves on edge. Inside, the corridor smelled faintly of cold and old rubber, the hum of the compressors deep in the walls. We moved quiet, sneakers whispering against floor, until we hit the stairwell.
The climb felt endless, the echo of each step chasing us up. At the top, another door—this one stiff but not locked. I shovedmy shoulder into it, and it gave way. The night air rushed in, cool and welcome.
The roof stretched flat beneath us, tar-black and gritty under the glow of arena lights bleeding from below. The town spread out in the distance, streetlamps glowing soft gold, the coast dark and endless beyond.
I dropped the blanket I’d stuffed under my arm, spreading it across the rough surface. Mila sank onto it, legs folding beneath her, hair catching the starlight. The star charm at her throat winked with every breath she took.
