In love with his own killer

XLVIII

Chapter 48
Treasure's POV:

The hotel was warm, but I couldn't stop shaking.

Devontae had taken me straight to the suite without a word. Just placed a steady hand on my back like I might fall apart if he let go. Maybe I wouldn't have.

Now I was lying on the bed, face turned to the wall, the city lights barely reaching through the curtains.

I could still feel the weight of the tears on my face, even though I wasn't crying anymore. I hadn't said much since we got here. My voice didn't work, and my body felt like it didn't belong to me.

Everything was heavy. Too quiet. Too loud. I couldn't tell the difference.

Devontae knelt beside the bed, resting his arm near me. I didn't look at him, but I could feel his presence. Steady, loyal, quiet in the way only people who've seen too much pain can be.

"I'm here," he murmured. "You don't have to talk. Just sleep."

I closed my eyes, but sleep didn't come.

Only him.

Elijah's laugh. His crooked smile in the kitchen this morning. His hands on my waist. The way he looked at me like I was his — and I almost believed it.

The way he looked at me when he found out I wasn't.

"Don't say my name."

My throat tightened.

I remembered how he held the gun.

How his voice dropped to that cold, flat tone that meant you're already dead.

And then... he didn't shoot.

God, why didn't he shoot?

I curled tighter into the blankets. Devontae rubbed slow circles on my shoulder, but it didn't soothe me.

After what felt like hours, I heard voices in the living room.

Santiago. James. Amari. Quiet at first, then louder.

I heard my name.

"She's not talking."

"D's with her."

"I hate that she's going through this."

Then silence again. I didn't turn. I couldn't.

The numbness came in waves. I wasn't sure if I was still feeling things or just remembering what it felt like to feel.

I don't know how much time passed before Amari knocked lightly on the bedroom door. "T, have you heard from Liz?"

I turned my head toward him, slowly. Blinked. Liz might be going through the same thing as me. I wouldn't want her to feel the pain I was feeling at that moment.

My lips parted, but the answer never came.

He looked at me a little too long - like he didn't know what to say next.

Then he nodded once and backed away.

And right as he did-

The suite door burst open.

Thunder cracked somewhere outside.
Wet footsteps pounded in.

"Liz?" Santiago called, confused.
We all rushed toward the entrance.

There she was.

Soaked to the bone, shivering, mascara streaked down her cheeks, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.