2: FIRST OBSESSION

If you keep coming back to the fire, eventually you’re going to burn Maybe that’s the point.

The days are hot, the nights are hotter, power lives in shadows. Love is an unspeakable danger and obsession; obsession begins quietly. Eliano didn’t sleep not that night, not the one after, not really. Her body still moved like it belonged to someone else sitting through forced brunches, nodding at her grandmother’s political guests, slipping into her carefully steamed dresses like a doll being dressed for auction, but her mind? Her mind was stuck, back in that warehouse back with her.

Amy Finn.

She didn’t even know the woman’s name until she started listening, really listening. Whispers at the dinner table, Mutters from passing drivers. A quiet tremor in the butler’s voice when he said, There are places a Marchetti girl shouldn’t be, Miss Eliano.

That name, that woman in the suit the one with the eyes like carved marble and a voice that dripped low and slow like molasses. That woman haunted her.

Five Evenings Later;

The docks smelled like seaweed, oil, and temptation. Ellie knew the risk she wasn’t stupid, but she also wasn’t sane anymore.

She stood across the street, dressed in a plain navy coat, collar turned up, watching the warehouse.

Just watching.

She’d memorized the times.

8:45 p.m. — the black car pulled up.

8:47 p.m. — Amy Finn stepped out, smooth as ink.

8:48 p.m. — the warehouse door opened, and the night swallowed her whole.

And Ellie just... stayed.

She’d stay for an hour, sometimes two pretending not to be waiting, pretending she wasn’t trembling. Eliano thought to herself

She’s beautiful in the way fire is beautiful. From far away, it warms you, up close, it killBut I still come back. She noticed on the second night Amy, There on the edge of the shadows a figure. A girl in a too large coat, hair pulled back, eyes wide even in the dark, not hiding well but not approaching either.

Amy said nothing, just noted it. On the third night, she lit a cigarette slower than usual. Made her entrance later than planned and angled her head ever so slightly toward the alley. The girl was still there, she’s back again, murmured Thomas her right hand man. I know, Amy replied without looking. You want her dealt with? Amy didn’t answer Instead, she inhaled slowly, the tip of her cigarette flaring orange in the dark. No, she said finally Let’s see what she wants. Ellie crouched behind an old stack of wooden crates across the street, her fingers tightening around the railing beside her. Her breath hitched when the warehouse door creaked open Amy, Her silhouette alone made Ellie’s chest ache. Like music you only hear in dreams.

Tonight, Amy didn’t walk in immediately she stood outside, lighting a cigarette.

She’s right there, Ellie thought.

You could cross the street, you could speak, You could… Amy turned Just a little just enough. And for a breathless second their eyes met, Again. This time not by accident:

Amy & Thomas (Inside Warehouse) Thomas: You think she’s a spy?

Amy (deadpan): She’s too obvious, If she’s a spy she’s a terrible one.

Thomas: She’s young stupid maybe, Could be bait

Amy: She’s curious and rich and bored.

Thomas (shrugs): Curiosity gets people killed.

Amy (flicking ash off her glove): So does loyalty, so does silence, so does breathing.

A Week Later Ellie had become a regular ghost at the docks she’d changed coats, hats, positions. But always the same hour, always the same eyes watching the same woman disappear into darkness.

And Amy? Amy let her, she let the girl watch. Late one night, the streets were nearly empty a light drizzle fogged the air, coating the cobblestone like soft glass, Ellie stood behind a lamp post, heart racing. Amy had stepped out of the warehouse early, alone. For the first time she didn’t go to the car she turned and she walked toward Ellie. One step, then another heels clicking softly against the wet ground. Amy stopped right at the edge of the street close enough for Ellie to see the silver glint of a knife handle tucked under her jacket.

You’ve been watching me, Amy said, voice cool and unhurried and I don’t like being watched. Ellie opened her mouth, no words came out. Amy stared at her, quiet, measured her eyes like marble polished by pain.

So, she said. You want to tell me why?