“Prevention of what?” I take a shaky step backward, the warehouse wall looming behind me. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You almost did.”
The words cut through me like a blade. My mind flashes back to the police station—the hesitation at the door, the brief thought of stepping inside. He knew. He saw. He logged every moment.
His anger isn’t loud, but it’s there—in the tension of his jaw, in the slight tightening of his posture.
“You went to the police,” he continues. “Even if you didn’t speak, even if you didn’t enter—your intentions matter.”
I shake my head, heart pounding hard enough to drown out everything else. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t file anything. I didn’t even go inside.”
“You thought about it,” he answers softly. “You weren’t supposed to.”
A wave of cold washes through me, numbing my fingers. “You’re acting like I’m the threat. You’re the one—” I falter, breath shuddering. “You’re the one who murdered someone.”
The second the words leave my mouth, the air changes.
Simon doesn’t flinch. His face doesn’t shift. Something behind his eyes darkens—an acknowledgment. A silent, undeniable truth.
He steps closer.
I press my back against the wall.
“You saw what I needed you to see,” he says quietly. “Apparently, you didn’t see enough to understand.”
“I saw enough,” I whisper.
His gaze lowers—slowly, deliberately—then rises again. “You saw a moment,” he says. “Not the meaning.”
My throat tightens painfully. “Meaning doesn’t change the fact that you killed someone.”
“Meaning changes everything, Eden.”
He says my name like a warning. Like a tether. Like something he refuses to let go of.
My entire body is trembling now. Fear sharpens into something cold, something primal. I want to run, but my legs won’t move. I want to scream, but sound won’t form.
“Why am I here?” I choke out. “What are you going to do to me?”
Simon’s voice softens—not kind, not gentle. “You almost stepped into a world you don’t belong to,” he says. “I’m giving you one chance not to take the next step.”
The meaning hits me like a blow.
My knees weaken.
Simon watches every tremor, every breath, every fear tightening my shoulders. He absorbs it all with a focus that feels like a predator studying prey—not to devour, but to decide what to do with it.
The truth settles with unmistakable clarity.
Simon is the man from the alley, and I am alone with him.
Chapter Ten - Simon
I watch her.
Not casually. Not impatiently. I study her the way I study enemies, threats, and puzzles—with absolute focus, every detail documented, every reaction cataloged.
Eden presses herself against the warehouse wall, trembling, eyes wide but not vacant. Fear runs through her, yes, but there is something else under it. Something sharper. Something that stirs me in a way I don’t appreciate.
