I don’t reply—just let my gaze wander. There wasn't much to work with here, considering this used to be part of a hospital, but somehow, he made it work.
“Did you strip the tiles from the walls yourself?” I ask him, hovering near the guitar. If I could, I’d pluck a string or two. But I can’t. I can only wish I had that kind of impact in the real world—to actually touch things. To make a difference.
“Yeah,” he says. “Couldn’t stand the hospital bullshit in my own space.”
“Hm.”
To be completely honest? I don’t like this.
I don’t like how normal he seems right now. How normal this place feels.
Because it’s not. It’s a façade—a carefully curated illusion of humanity.
I don’t buy it.
Because the Talon I met in the basement of that abandoned warehouse was not the same man lounging here now. That Talon was comfortable in the violence. He was evil, deliberate, cold. But here?
Here, he’s playing the likable one. The easygoing one. The one who jokes to diffuse tension, who winks and grins and keeps things light.
“Why show me all this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Because,” he says easily, “you're going to be here for a while, Little Grim. Might as well get comfortable.”
I exhale sharply. “I don't have a choice, do I?”
His smirk widens.
“Not even a little,” he replies smoothly.”But if you want to pretend otherwise, I'd be your performance partner. Never could deny a beautiful woman anyway.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Again.
“You do realize I can just phase through walls and leave whenever I want, right?”
He hums, as if considering it. “You could,” he agrees. “But you haven't yet.”
I bristle. “That's because I have questions.”
“And once you get your answers?” he muses, tilting his head. “Then what? You go back to your little afterlife routine? Pretend none of this ever happened?”
I open my mouth to argue, but the way he watches me—sharp gaze, lazy posture—for some reason, makes me hesitate.
I don't know what I'll do.
Watching my ex-husband after meeting these three killers today wasn't as fun as it usually was. The thrill of glaring at his stupid, still-breathing face just… wasn’t hitting like it used to. And aimlessly waiting for the pull to summon me back while I lurk in the mortal realm doesn’t sound all that appealing either. The afterlife? Yeah, that place is boring as hell.
So what is left for me?
“You don't have to believe in what we do,” Talon says, shifting onto his side, watching me like he’s peeling me apart layer by layer. “You don't even have to like us. But you're here now. And something tells me you're not as eager to leave as you pretend to be.”
I glare at him. “You don’t know me.”
His smirk widens. “I don't have to know you. I knowpeople. And I know what it looks like when someone is curious.”
The worst part? He’s right.
“Fine,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “Say Iamstaying for a while. What then? What exactly do you expect me to do? You still haven't even told me what you want from me.”
His grin stays, but there’s a pause—a small, fleeting moment where he just looks at me. Then, he lifts his eyebrows, glances to the side, and verydeliberatelydrags his gaze back to mine.
