Chapter 2

I pushed myself to my feet and crossed the apartment, turning on every light as I went. Bedroom. Bathroom. Kitchen. I checked every corner, every shadow, even though I knew I was alone.

I grabbed my phone from my bag.

My fingers hovered over the screen.

Call the police.

The thought barely formed before panic crashed over it. What would I even say? That I saw a murder? That the man who did it was connected to someone at the theater? That I recognized him from nights I had danced?

That he recognized me.

My chest tightened.

Calling the police would not save me. It would make it worse. I had just watched a man get executed for talking. What would they do to someone who went to the authorities?

No. No police.

I tossed the phone onto the couch like it had burned me.

I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water with hands that still would not stop shaking. The plastic crinkled loudly in the quiet apartment. I twisted the cap off and drank too fast, water spilling down my chin.

I forced myself to slow down.

Breathe.

In. Out.

I leaned against the counter, staring at nothing, replaying the sound of the gunshot over and over in my head. The begging. The blood. The way the man with the gun had not hesitated. Not even for a second.

And then his eyes.

When he saw me.

I checked the clock on the microwave.

4:58 AM.

I had been running on adrenaline for hours, and now it was wearing off. My body felt heavy, like it might collapse at any second. I tried to sit. I tried to lie down. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again.

The gun.

The blood.

His voice.

Traitors don’t get second chances.

I did not sleep.

By the time the sky outside my window started to lighten, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tight around myself.

5:32 AM.

That was when the knock came.

Three sharp raps against my door.

I froze.

My heart slammed so hard I thought I might pass out. For a second, I convinced myself I imagined it. That my mind was finally breaking.

Then it came again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Slow. Controlled.

My breath caught in my throat.

I stood slowly, every movement deliberate, quiet. My apartment was suddenly too small, the walls closing in around me. I looked around for something, anything, to defend myself with. A knife. Scissors. Something.

Another knock.

This one is louder.

“Nina Nyx,” a man’s voice called through the door. Calm. Polite. Like this was a social visit.

My blood ran cold.

I did not answer.

There was a pause.

“We just want to talk.”

I took a step back, shaking my head even though he could not see me. My eyes landed on the chain lock. It was thin. Useless.

“I know you’re awake,” the voice continued. “You came home in a hurry.”

My stomach dropped.

They knew.

“I promise, this will be easier if you cooperate.”

I swallowed hard. My mouth felt dry. I forced myself to speak.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Then I heard the sound of a key sliding into the lock.

My heart stopped.

The door opened smoothly, like it had been theirs all along.

Two men stepped inside.

Both were dressed in dark suits, clean, expensive. Not the men from the alley. These ones looked like businessmen. Security. Fixers. The kind of men who made problems disappear.

The taller one closed the door behind them with a soft click.

“Nina Nyx.” He said my name like he had said it a hundred times before. “We need you to come with us.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s not important.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The second man, shorter but wider, moved to block the kitchen doorway. Not threatening. Just there. Making his presence known.

“You witnessed something last night,” the tall one said. “Something that puts you in danger.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” His voice was patient. Like he was explaining something to a child. “You saw a man killed behind La Scala. You ran. We know because we were there.”

My knees went weak.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he continued. “We’re here to protect you.”

“Protect me?” My voice came out high, sharp. “By breaking into my apartment?”

“By bringing you somewhere safe. Before someone else finds you.”

“Someone else?”

“The people responsible for what you saw. They don’t leave witnesses.”

I pressed myself against the wall. “Then why haven’t they come for me already?”

The two men exchanged a glance.

“Because they don’t know about you yet. But they will.”

“So what, you’re just going to hide me?”

“Something like that.”

“And if I say no?”

The tall man’s expression did not change. “That would be a mistake.”

I looked between them, my mind racing. These men were not here to ask permission. They were here to take me. One way or another.

“Who sent you?”

“Someone who wants to make sure you stay alive.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.” He gestured toward the door. “Get dressed. Bring nothing. We leave in five minutes.”

“I’m not going with you.”

“Yes. You are.”

The shorter man moved slightly, his jacket shifting just enough that I saw it. The holster. The gun.

My throat closed.

“Five minutes, Nina. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“No.”

The word tore out of me before I could s

Process it.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I moved fast. Too fast for someone who had been awake for hours and running on fear alone. I darted toward the door, hand reaching for the handle.

I never made it.

Something rough pressed over my mouth and nose from behind. Fabric. Thick. It smelled sharp and wrong. Chemicals.

I tried to scream but strong arms locked around me, pinning my body tight. My kicks went wild, unfocused. My nails scraped against someone’s wrist, skin, and fabric.

The room tilted.

“No,” I gasped, the sound muffled. “Please.”

The edges of my vision blurred. My limbs went heavy, like my body had suddenly forgotten how to obey me. The ceiling swayed, then slid away completely.

***

Darkness swallowed everything.