She glares at me, but I can tell she’s fighting the urge to smile by the way her lips twitch.
“I promise I won’t.” She says softly. “And as far as I’m concerned, what happened back there was self-defense.”
“Self-defense.” I repeat slowly.
“Yes.”
“I killed four men without a second thought.”
She swallows. “I know, but they deserved it. They nearly killed you and were in the middle of attacking me. If anything, you saved me.”
This isn’t how these situations usually play out. People see the monster and they run screaming. They don’t stand there arguing semantics and morality.
“Look.” She says, pulling me from my thoughts. “I won’t talk, I swear. Can we just go our separate ways and pretend like tonight never happened?”
Her idea doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t even register as possible. I shake my head. “A promise isn’t going to cut it, Bambi.”
She furrows her brow, and there’s almost something scientific about the expression that takes over her face. She looks like she’s been given a complex problem and is trying her damnedest to solve it.
“The knife.” She says suddenly, looking up at me. “The one I used on them. It has my prints all over it and their blood. You could keep it as leverage. Then we’d both be in trouble if I talked.”
Smart girl.
“Good.” I say, crossing my arms. “But still not enough. Those men weren’t just anybody, and the cops aren’t the only ones I need to be concerned about.”
She tries again, desperation tightening her features. “What if you check up on me?” She offers. “You know, make sure I stay quiet. We could… keep in touch. Like friends.”
Friends.
She says it like it’s harmless. Like she isn’t offering me a way into every unguarded part of her life.
Friendship gives me proximity without the complication of resistance. It gives me permission. A reason to ask questions. A reason to watch.
I stare at her for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Watching the way her shoulders tense and the way she still hasn’t looked away, despite the fear threading through her.
“You want to be my friend.” I say slowly, tasting the word on my tongue.
Her mouth twitches. “I want to walk out of here alive. If staying in contact with you is what makes that happen, then so be it.”
Honest, desperate, yet extraordinarily calculated.
I look at her for a long moment. Long enough that her breathing changes. Long enough that I can see the exact moment she starts to question if she’s going to survive this.
“Alright.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yes. But if you lie to me, if you disappear, or if I even get the sense that you’re thinking about talking to anyone?—”
She swallows. “I won’t.”
I nod. “Give me your phone.”
She hesitates for half a second before handing it over. She already knows there’s no point in arguing.
I fire off a quick text to myself before handing it back to her and pulling out my own cell.
“What’s your real name, Bambi?” I ask, locking eyes with her.
