People see what they’re trained to see.
Except for one.
One of them sees beyond the stage lights, past the smoke and spectacle.
Their eyes trace the shadows the way mine do.
It would be a shame to silence someone with such potential . . . but even prodigies can become a problem.
Let’s give the people a story they can’t look away from.
A legend worth retelling.
A truth worth fearing.
And they will listen. Oh, they will listen.
The island already is.
Chapter Thirty-One
The Parts We Play
Harmony walked through the restless streets of Avalon like it was a funeral too many people had tried to organize—too many hands on the casket, making it all chaotic. She smiled at shopkeepers, nodded at tourists, and offered easy hellos to strangers. On the surface, she was the same familiar face.
She scanned, studied, remembered. Everyone believed the killer lived in the shadows. Harmony knew better. Danger liked the spotlight; it was simply patient enough to wait for its cue.
She turned a corner and nearly collided with Tosh.
“Dammit, Harmony,” he muttered, jerking back, coffee sloshing. “You just don’t get it. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Harmony lifted a brow. “But it’s fine for you?”
“Funny.” His mouth twisted. “I’m not in danger. They’ve only targeted women so far.”
“There’s always a first,” she said.
He glared.
“You’re running out of friends and lovers. That should scare you,” she told him.
She held his gaze, unflinching.
Tosh’s jaw hardened. “You say whatever foul thing you want like nothing can touch you. But someday, you’re going to learn that people keep lists, Harmony. You’re on theirs. They see you.”
“Let them see me,” she replied. “They can talk all they want. They’re still scared and doing nothing about it.”
He looked at her like he didn’t recognize the woman he’d once been close to. “Are you really this twisted, or is it an act?”
“You want tears? Should I fake heartbreak for people I barely spoke to?” she shot back. “Fear makes people show who they really are. I’m not scared, and I don’t believe in lying. I am who I am, and I’m done pretending.”
“Fear is killing people,” he snapped.
He then turned and stalked away, shoulders tense.
Maybe itshouldworry her how easily she could compartmentalize fragile emotions. She paused, sensing how detached she’d become. Maybe the impact would eventually hit her, but right now, numbness wrapped around her like armor.
If Tosh was right, though, and people were noticing, then maybe the problem, in their eyes, could be her.
