She didn’t remove a single piece of the bloodied angel costume, just reached into her bag with shaking hands and yanked her black hoodie out, pulling it over her head. It draped low enough on her body to hide the costume. Then she wiggled into a pair of sweatpants and shoved her feet into her worn black sneakers, not even bothering with socks.
I started forward.
But just then, another dancer topped the stairs and headed into the dressing room, pausing mid-step when she caught sight of Lyla.
“Jesus. Are you okay?”
Lyla didn’t answer right away. Her face was ghost white beneath the smeared remnants of the angelic makeup, blood, and brains. She nodded quickly, not meeting the woman’s eyes. “Fine. I’m fine.”
Then she bolted.
Out of the room. Across the hall. Down the stairs. Slamming through the exit and tearing down the alley.
I moved fast, but could barely keep up.
She didn’t slow, didn’t even check her surroundings. Just ran like hellfire—every breath ragged with terror. I followed her through the streets, keeping to the dark edges.
A few blocks from the club, she took a hard turn and nearly slipped. Caught herself. Kept running.
Fuck. She was fast. Running on pure adrenaline.
I managed to remain close—barely. I didn’t want her to see me. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.
She reached her building. Four steps from the entrance, she suddenly turned.
Saw me.
Her breath hitched.
Those wide, wild eyes locked onto mine like I was death incarnate.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Then, slowly, I stepped back into the shadows.
Lyla keyed in her code, stumbled through the door, and slammed it shut behind her.
I circled around to the back and scaled the fire escape.
Through the kitchen window, I saw her collapse into someone’s arms.
Must be Jae Kim—the male roommate I’d seen on the lease and her social media posts. He was athletic and broad-shouldered. He wore a tank and joggers and looked like he could snap someone’s neck if he had to.
He held her like she weighed nothing.
“Hey—whoa, whoa. What happened?” The closed window muffled Jae’s voice, but even through the glass, I caught the protective tone.
Lyla just stood there, frozen in his arms, trembling.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head once, shuddering. “It’s not my blood… I didn’t get hurt. It’s…someone else’s.”
I clenched my jaw. Fuck, she was so wrecked.
“That’s good to know, sweet pea.” Jae pulled back slightly, studying her. “You need to get out of these clothes. I can smell what’s under them.” He brushed her hair back, gentle as hell. “Let me help you get cleaned up, and you can talk to me when you feel up to it.”
