Chapter 10

RONAN'S POV

She walks for what feels like forever.

I stay back. Keep distance. Let her lead.

The trees turn to streets. Streets turn to buildings. Buildings turn to alleys. She knows where she's going. Never hesitates. Never looks back.

Then she stops.

Dead end. Brick wall. Nothing there.

I watch from behind a dumpster. Fucking confused.

She reaches out. Presses something on the wall. A brick slides back. There's a keypad underneath.

She punches in numbers. Six digits. Maybe seven. I strain to see but I'm too far.

Come on. Come on.

She finishes. The wall opens. Not a door—a whole section of it, sliding sideways. Stairs going down. Dark.

She goes in. Wall closes behind her.

I wait. Count to sixty. Then move.

The keypad is still there. I try the numbers I thought I saw. First try: wrong. Red light.

Fuck.

Second try: wrong again.

Third try: green light. The wall slides open.

I go in.

---

Stairs. Long. Dark. Cold. At the bottom, a door. I push through.

And stop.

This isn't a basement. This is a facility. Hallways stretching in every direction. Doors with numbers. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The smell of chemicals. Cleaners. Something else I can't place.

I pick a direction. Walk. Past one lab, then another. Glass windows. Equipment inside. Microscopes. Freezers. Tables with tools I don't recognize.

This isn't just one lab. It's a whole complex.

I find her eventually.

She's behind glass. In a room that looks like an operating theater. Stainless steel tables. Bright lights. Sinks.

The bag is open. She's wearing gloves now. Different clothes—scrubs, maybe. She pulls out the kidneys. One. Two.

She rinses them under cold water. Slow. Methodical. Like she's washing dishes, not human organs.

Then she moves to a table with containers. Glass jars. Clear liquid inside—preservation solution, I realize. She places each kidney in its own jar. Seals them. Labels them with a marker. Date. Organ type. Something else—a code, maybe.

The liver gets the same treatment. Washed. Jarred. Labeled.

She works without hurry. Without emotion. Like this is just another Tuesday.

When she's done, she puts the jars in a bag. A travel bag, insulated. She writes something on a tag. Attaches it. Then walks to the far wall.

Lockers. Dozens of them.

She opens one. Puts the bag inside. Closes it. Spins the lock.

Then she turns. Walks to a phone on the wall. One of those old ones with the curly cord. Lifts it. Dials.

I strain to hear.

"Yeah. Another order is ready." Her voice is flat. Professional. "Same place. Come pick it up. Let me know when the deal pushes through."

She listens for a moment. Nods. Hangs up.

Then she just stands there. Staring at nothing.

I stay hidden. Watching.

She doesn't move for a long time like she was calculating in her head.

I watched her, especially her eyes as it moves. It has no light , it looks like I am looking at the mechanical part of her and a shiver went through me.

She sighed and started to move

I watch her walk to a door I didn't notice before. Bathroom, maybe. She disappears inside.

I stay frozen. Waiting.

Twenty minutes later, she comes out.

And she's someone else.

The blood is gone. The scrubs are gone. She's wearing this soft thing—flowy, light colored, something a wife wears to breakfast. Her hair is different. Softer. Her face is calm. Sweet. Like she just woke up from a good dream.

Like she didn't just harvest organs from a man she killed hours ago.

She starts walking toward the exit. Toward me.

I press deeper into my hiding spot. Don't breathe.

She walks past. Keeps going. Almost to the door.

Then she stops.

Turns.

Looks directly at where I'm hiding.

"What?" My voice doesn't come out.

She tilts her head. Smiles. Not a nice smile.

"What made you think I didn't know you were following me?"

I don't move. Don't speak.

"All this way." She shakes her head. "You really thought you were being subtle?"

Silence.

She waits. I wait.

"Come on," she says. "You're not going to come out? You want to keep up the game?"

Nothing from me.

"Okay." She shrugs. "I'll see you later, then."

She turns. Walks out. The door closes behind her.

I stay where I am for a long time.

She knew. She knew the whole time.

I slide down against the wall. Sit on the cold floor.

I'm not even playing the game. She's the master. She's been the master since the beginning.

What am I supposed to do now? How do I—what is this? What sort of game have I walked into?

Do I even know what's happening anymore?

I don't.

I really don't.

---

Eventually I stand. Leave. Go up the stairs. Through the hidden door. Into the alley.

Morning light. Trash. Graffiti. Normal city sounds.

And a letter on the ground.

Right where I'd step. Like she knew exactly where I'd come out.

I pick it up. My name on the front. Her handwriting.

I don't open it yet

I just stand there, holding it, realizing I have no idea who she is anymore.

Or maybe I'm starting to.