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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅-𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐍, letting in just enough light from the moon to cast shadows across the hardwood floor. The chandelier above us didn't move, didn't creak, but it felt like it was watching.
Sofia stood frozen. Her eyes darted between Rafe and me like she was calculating—counting exits, chances, lies. But it was already too late. She was inside the room. The door was locked. Rafe's hand was clamped around her arm like steel.
"You're lying," he said, voice low and flat. The kind of low that makes your spine go cold.
Her mouth opened, just slightly, and a breath came out—like she wanted to say something, maybe beg, maybe run—but no words followed. The guilt wrapped itself around her like chains, visible in her trembling hands and the way her knees started to bend under the weight of it.
I stepped closer. Slow, deliberate.
"You were eavesdropping," I said. My voice didn't shake. It didn't rise. It was calm. Icy. "You heard something you shouldn't have."
Her eyes went wide. Panic sparked and caught like gasoline. "No—I swear—I didn't hear anything!"
Rafe looked at me, and in that half-second glance, we didn't need words. We already knew what needed to happen.
He moved quickly, pulling her across the room toward the velvet chair near the tall window. She started fighting back—weakly, uselessly—kicking at the floor, trying to wriggle out of his grip.
"Please—don't do this! I won't tell anyone, I swear—I didn't—"
"Sit," Rafe snapped under his breath, shoving her into the chair.
She tried to scream.
It was loud.
Too loud.
I froze for a second, blood rushing in my ears. The house was quiet—too quiet. Rafe's family was asleep just one floor above us. His little sister's room was just down the hallway. All it would take was one wrong noise and everything would fall apart.
"Shut her up," I hissed, my voice sharp with panic. "Now, Rafe."
He didn't hesitate. He reached over to the side table, grabbed a silk scarf—probably his sister's, and wadded it in one hand before shoving it hard into Sofia's mouth.
The scream died instantly. Turned into a choked, muffled sob.
She whimpered as he grabbed his belt—fine leather, dark, expensive, some custom brand I'd never remember—and began looping it around her wrists, securing them to the armrests of the chair. She thrashed and struggled, but she was shaking too much to do anything useful. Her panic was working against her.
I stood still, arms crossed tightly across my chest, trying to keep my breathing under control. Every movement felt loud. Every breath felt like it echoed. Rafe's fingers moved fast but carefully, methodically, as if he'd done this before—which made me wonder more than I wanted to admit.
When he was done, he stood back, his chest rising and falling slowly. Watching her. Analyzing her.
"Comfortable?" he asked quietly. Mocking.
Sofia didn't respond. Couldn't. Her eyes glistened with tears, mascara streaking down her cheeks, her mouth stuffed with silk. She looked more pathetic than dangerous now. But that was the problem. She had been dangerous. She knew too much. She heard too much.
I crouched in front of her slowly, balancing on my feet, and leaned in close. The way you would with a child.
"You brought this on yourself," I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her clammy face. "You should've walked away."
I stood up and pulled out my phone. The screen lit up the room for a second. Too bright. Too sudden. I turned the brightness down and typed fast.
I need you. Urgent. Come to Rafe's place. Don't ask. Just come.
I hit send and slipped the phone into my pocket. My heart was pounding, but I kept my expression unreadable.
Sofia shifted in the chair. The belt creaked. Her wrists were starting to turn red.
"Who did you text?" she mumbled through the scarf, barely intelligible.
"Someone who'll help us decide what to do with you," I replied coolly.
Rafe leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes trained on her like a hunter waiting for something to move. "In the meantime, let's have a little chat."
Sofia looked down at her lap like it might protect her. "About what?"
I stepped closer again, lifted her chin with one finger so she had to look at me.
"About what you heard."
"I told you—I didn't—"
"Stop lying," I snapped. "It's insulting and it makes you look even dumber."
Rafe pushed off the wall. "Let's cut the bullshit. If you heard what we think you heard, you already know we can't let you leave."
Sofia whimpered again. Her eyes darted toward the door. It was locked. Deadbolted. And we were three flights below his parents' master suite.
No one was going to save her.
My phone buzzed.
Adriana: I'm downstairs. Lucas is with me.
Of course he was. I didn't have time to care. I needed her.
I nodded to Rafe. "Let them in. Quiet."
He left the room for just a second and returned with them both. Adriana walked in like she owned the place, eyes immediately locking on Sofia. Lucas followed, slower, unsure.
Adriana closed the door quietly behind her. "What the hell happened?"
I took a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"I killed Gustav."
Silence.
Adriana didn't blink. Lucas did.
"Tonight," I added. "She heard something about it. Outside the room."
Adriana stepped closer to Sofia, her boots whispering against the floor. "You're sure?"
"We caught her right in the middle of it. She was standing at the fucking door."
Sofia moaned through the scarf. Adriana crouched beside her and tilted her head, almost curious.
"Wow," she said softly. "You really fucked up, didn't you?"
She looked back at me with a strange sort of calm. "We can't leave her here."
Rafe nodded immediately. "My parents will hear something eventually. They'll come down."
I hesitated. "There's a house. My parents have one, outside the city. No one uses it. I have the keys"
Adriana nodded slowly. "Perfect."
Lucas finally spoke. "Are we actually doing this?"
Adriana turned to him. "Do you have a better plan?"
His silence was all the answer we needed.
She walked over to the door, tested it to make sure it was still locked, then glanced back at the rest of us. "Let's move fast. Before someone wakes up."
