The door at the back finally opens.
A man steps out. He’s clean-shaven, wearing a suit that doesn’t belong in a place like this. His eyes sweep the room once, land on me, and stay there.
I offer him a slight nod.
The man slides onto the chair across from me and lifts his drink like we’re old friends. He doesn’t speak. His eyes stay fixed on mine, waiting to see who blinks first. I don’t. “Do you have what I came for or not?” I ask.
He sets the glass down and reaches inside his suit jacket. The envelope he produces is thick and worn, its edges softened from too many trades. He places it on the table, letting it sit in the puddle of someone else’s drink before pushing it across the sticky surface.
I take it without breaking eye contact. I open the seal. Inside are the documents I paid for—passports, licenses, supporting files. Five complete sets.
Mine. Marlowe’s. Bridger’s. Cody’s. Mom’s.
Each name chosen for a reason. Each photograph perfect. New lives. New histories. A clean way out, if we need one.
Bridger taps through the wire transfer on his phone. Fifty thousand, sent in seconds like it’s nothing. The man checks his screen, nods once, and leans back like the job is finished.
But it isn’t.
I hold the envelope under my arm and rise. Bridger stands beside me. Cody stays in his seat, eyes locked on another dancer—a blonde this time. He lifts his drink, sips slowly, then eventually stands like he has nowhere better to be.
I don’t look down at the man. I just ask, “And our other deal?”
He gives a slight tilt of the head and replies, calm as ever. “Follow Kitty into the back. You’ll get what you paid for.”
From the dark hallway, a woman steps out. Her heels strike the floor without hesitation. She wears lace and confidence. Her expression is painted in red. She lifts a hand and curls her fingers once, beckoning. Then she turns and walks into the shadows.
Bridger exhales. Cody follows without a word. We don’t need to talk about what comes next.
They know what this is.
Only Marlowe doesn’t.
And I’ve made peace with the fact that when she finds out, she won’t want me anymore. She shouldn’t. Because I’m a fucking monster.
We walk out into the hall, and the music fades behind us. The air shifts, cooler in the hallway, quieter. I can feel the decision thick in my throat, lodged there like a weight I chose to carry. That’s when the man speaks again from behind us. “When he finds you, and he will, he’s going to kill you. All of you. You know that, right?”
Bridger laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it. Cody doesn’t even turn around. I stop. Turn just enough to catch the edge of the man’s face in the faint, pulsing red light. “He won’t find us,” I say. “Because if he does, I’ll know exactly who opened their mouth. And when that happens, I’ll cut you open. I’ll drag out every inch of your intestines and leave them hanging from that stage for the next girl to step over.”
He doesn’t flinch.
I continue walking.
The hallway swallows the last of the noise, replacing it with silence and the pulse of what I’m about to do.
Chapter Five
MARLOWE
We didn’t go to the spa.
Neve didn’t ask why, and I didn’t offer an excuse. I can tell from her worried expression she knows I’m going through something and getting a manicure and wax isn’t going to fix it. Now we’re tucked into a dark corner of the Rum and Room, the air thick with music and memory. It’s early afternoon, too early for crowds, but the bar still hums with the low sounds of ice clinking in glasses and quiet laughter.
This is where I met him. I know it’s only been three months, but after those first few nights, it feels like a lifetime ago.
Neve sits across from me, stirring her sangria with a straw, her expression careful but open. She’s watching me like she’s trying to figure out how far I’ve unraveled. I don’t know what she sees, but I feel thin around the edges.
I fold my hands on the table to keep them from shaking. “There was a message on his phone,” I blurt out, before I can overthink it. “I saw it when I was getting dressed this morning, while he was still asleep.”
