Still fresh. Still perfect.
She walked over slowly, fingers brushing the soft white petals. She leaned in, inhaled.
“You kept them?”
Becca didn’t look up. “Yeah.”
Inez turned. “Becca… this is weird. A stranger sending you your favorite flower? In your favorite color? That’s not random.”
Becca finally met her eyes.
“I know it’s weird,” she admitted. “At one point I thought it was Izzy. But he’s way too dumb to know details like that. Subtlety was never his thing.”
Inez sat back against the counter, thinking.
“What about the guy who helped you home that night?” she asked carefully. “The night your so-called friends disappeared?”
Becca froze.
For the first time, she really let herself think about it.
Could it have been him?
The stranger.
The one she couldn’t remember.
Her stomach tightened. “I don’t even remember his face.”
Inez’s expression shifted. Softer now. Concerned.
“You don’t black out like that, Becca. The only other time I’ve seen you that gone…” She hesitated.
The Bronx.
The assault.
The memory passed between them silently.
Inez stood, wrapping her arms tightly around her friend. “We’re going to figure this out. Together.”
Becca hugged her back, grounding herself in something real.
—
Not far away, screens illuminated Silas’s face in the dim room.
Security feeds. Street cameras. Drone thermal overlays cutting through the storm.
Jace leaned back in his chair. “Everything seems quiet tonight.”
Silas didn’t answer immediately.
He’d been on edge all day.
Radio silence from Lionetti’s camp since the conversation with his right-hand man.
Too quiet.
