Chapter 5

By the time the sun comes up I'm pacing. Lucien's somewhere in the penthouse, probably in that locked wing he never talks about. The one with blackout curtains and a door that doesn't show up on the floor plan.

I get dressed. Jeans, hoodie, the kind of outfit that says I'm not playing assistant today. I grab the token and head out into the hall.

He's in the kitchen.

Not the locked wing. The kitchen. Pouring himself something dark into a wine glass, slow and careful. He doesn't look up when I walk in.

"You should rest," he says.

"I found this." I hold up the token.

He stops mid-pour. Just for a second. Then he sets the bottle down, smooth, like nothing happened.

"Where."

"Outside. After your buddy left." I step closer. "It has blood on it. Vivian's blood."

Lucien doesn't move. Doesn't blink. He's good at that, the statue thing. Like if he stays still enough I'll forget what I asked.

"It's a distress code," I say. "Isn't it."

"Evelyn—"

"Don't." I slam the token on the counter between us. "Don't do the voice. Don't tell me it's complicated. Just tell me what happened to her."

He looks at the token. Then at me. His eyes are still that cold glass-green, the kind that doesn't give anything away.

"She left," he says.

"Bullshit."

"She completed her contract and left."

"Then why is her blood on a distress token in your driveway?"

Lucien picks up his glass. Takes a sip. I can see the edge of his teeth. Sharp. He swallows and sets it down.

"Because she didn't leave quietly."

I feel cold. The kind that starts in your chest and spreads.

"What does that mean."

"It means she wanted to know more than was safe. She asked questions. She went looking in places I told her not to go." He tilts his head. "The same way you're doing now."

"So you what, killed her?"

"No." He says it flat. No emotion. Like I just asked if he takes sugar in his coffee. "But I couldn't stop what did."

My hand goes to the token. It's warm. Shouldn't be warm. It's been sitting on my nightstand all night.

"You're saying something killed her because she asked questions."

"I'm saying the world I live in doesn't tolerate curiosity. Not from humans." He steps around the counter. Slow. Controlled. "I gave her the same warning I'm giving you. Stay inside. Follow the terms. Don't go looking."

"And she didn't listen."

"No."

"So she died."

Lucien stops a few feet away. Close enough I can feel the cold coming off him. He's always cold. I used to think it was the AC.

"She disappeared," he says. "I looked. I sent people. We found nothing."

"Except this." I hold up the token again.

He doesn't answer.

I step closer. I don't know what I'm doing. Maybe I'm angry. Maybe I'm scared. Maybe both. I press the token against his throat. Right where his pulse should be. There's nothing. No beat. Just cold skin.

"Am I next?" I ask.

He doesn't move. Doesn't push me away. Just looks at me with those glass eyes.

"Not if you're smart."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

I want to shove him. Want to scream. Want to run. But my hand is shaking and the token is burning now, actually burning, hot enough I have to pull it back.

Lucien catches my wrist.

"Where did you really find this," he says. Quiet. Dangerous quiet.

"I told you. Outside."

"Evelyn."

"Let go."

He doesn't. His grip isn't rough but it's solid, the kind you can't twist out of. He turns my hand over, looking at the token in my palm.

"This is old," he says. "Months old. It shouldn't still be active."

"What does that mean."

He lets go. Steps back. Runs a hand through his hair and for the first time since I met him he looks rattled.

"It means she left it on purpose. Not as a distress call. As a message."

"For who."

"For whoever came after her." He looks at me. "For you."

The apartment is too quiet. I can hear my own breathing. The hum of the fridge. Nothing else.

"What kind of message," I say.

Lucien takes the token from my hand. He holds it up to the light, turning it over. There's an engraving on the back. I didn't see it before. Small. Scratched in, not stamped.

He reads it out loud.

"Playback."

The token starts to hum.

I step back. Lucien doesn't. He just stands there, holding it, while the hum gets louder and then shifts, crackles, turns into static.

Then a voice.

Female. Young. Shaking.

"If you're hearing this, you're already in too deep."

I freeze.

Vivian.

"He'll tell you it's protection. That the contract keeps you safe. Maybe it does. I don't know anymore." The static gets worse. I can barely hear her. "I thought I could handle it. Thought I was smart enough to figure it out. I wasn't."

Lucien's jaw tightens.

"There's something downstairs," Vivian's voice says. "He won't tell you what. He'll say it's storage, or private, or none of your business. Don't believe him."

I look at Lucien. He's staring at the token like it's a live grenade.

"I went down there," Vivian continues. "I saw. I can't—" Her voice breaks. "I can't tell you what it is. If I say it out loud the contract will—"

The static spikes. Then her voice comes back, fast, desperate.

"Whatever you do, don't let him take you downstairs."

The token goes silent.

I'm not breathing.

Lucien closes his fist around the token. When he opens it again, the thing is ash.

"She broke the terms," he says. Flat. Empty.

"What's downstairs," I whisper.

He doesn't look at me.

"Lucien." My voice cracks. "What's downstairs."

He turns and walks toward the hall. Toward the locked wing.

"Stay here," he says.

And then he's gone.