Lie.Her mouth watered for the drug.
She checked on Skyler again. Her friend’s chest rose and fell in an even pattern.
Without drawing attention to herself, Audrey made her way to the bathroom and shut the door. In the dark, she let her head fall against the door, wondering if she was really free—or if she’d just traded one cage for another.
She reached inside her bag and pulled out a tattered textbook. Her dad’s voice filled her mind.
Every language carries a history inside it.
Audrey pressed the book briefly to her cheek, letting the ink and paper scent fill her nose. It reminded her of nights with her father at the kitchen table, as he taught her languages and fed her desire for knowledge.
But the thoughts returned, interrupting the memory. She dropped the book and dug through her bag. From an inside pocket, she pulled a small plastic bag and laid out crystals, leaning over them quickly.
The burn hit hard and fast. That manufactured silence settled around her. It wasn’t enough. It was more like being underwater, not the pure silence she craved.
She took another.
The second hit did it. Her vision softened, and the pressure in her head loosened.
Almost perfect.
She wiped her nose with a piece of toilet paper. This was the trade—distance instead of clarity. Enough to pretend, for a few hours, that nothing was amiss. But it was false. The monster was always there, stalking the perimeters of her thoughts.
She fixed her makeup in the mirror, smoothing the space between her brows until her face went blank. Despite her exhaustion and the drugs, she looked good.
Back in the main room, the music blasted into her.
The crowd had grown, but no one here cared who she was, which was the point. In places like this, identity didn’t stick. Faces all looked the same, and names didn’t matter. People saw what they wanted—and forgot the rest.
She got a drink. The sting of alcohol centered her. Across the room, a man with a simple aura watched.
He smiled. She smiled back; the hook was set. Audrey moved into his space, stoking his emotions. Manipulation was a system she understood.
Den boreís na antistatheís se mia séxi gynaíka.
Every muscle in her body locked up.
The phrase was in ancient Greek, the same frightening words she’d heard from the killer before, although not his native language, which was far more melodic.
After all these months, after all her careful planning, that language could only mean one thing—the killer was close. Closer than he’d ever been before. This wasn’t an overreaction or a mistake. He was here, maybe even just outside.
She scanned the warehouse. Bodies moved as usual, but her gut told her that something was off.
Across the bar, Erik grinned. “Good girl,” he mouthed.
Audrey grimaced, unable to fake a true smile for him but trying to pretend everything was normal.
It wasn’t, though. The feeling didn’t leave. Under the noise, her homeostasis shifted in response to the threat.
There you are, love.
Hearing him again, so close, made her insides twist. He hadn’t just come across her…he’d been looking.
And now, he was close enough to touch.
6
The killer had gone silent after those words. But he hadn’t disappeared, and that seemed more dangerous. Predators moved when they wanted to be seen; they quieted when they were close enough not to need the chase. Somewhere inside the noise and strobing light, Audrey felt him waiting for her to make a wrong move.
