Lila’s breath hitched as the knocking echoed through the apartment—sharp, insistent. Her fingers curled around the phone, the ominous message burning into her vision.

You shouldn’t have looked.

The knocking came again, louder this time.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, her body caught between paralysis and the desperate urge to bolt. Adrian’s warning screamed in her mind. Don’t answer the door. But what if it was him? What if he had come back to explain? To tell her the photo was a mistake, a trick of the light, anything but what it so clearly seemed to be?

The third knock was a demand, not a request.

Lila forced herself to move, her bare feet silent against the cold hardwood as she crept toward the door. She didn’t call out. Didn’t ask who it was. Her fingers hovered over the lock, trembling.

Then—

“Lila.”

Adrian’s voice. Low. Rough.

Her heart lurched. She should have been relieved. But the way he said her name—like a threat, like a promise—sent a fresh wave of ice through her veins.

She opened the door.

He stood there, his dark eyes burning into hers, his jaw set like stone. He was still in last night’s clothes, the sleeves of his black Henley shoved up to his elbows, his knuckles scraped raw.

“You saw the news,” he said. Not a question.

Lila swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the edge of the door. “Chloe’s dead.” The words tasted like ash.

Adrian’s expression didn’t change. “And you think I did it.”

She flinched. The accusation hung between them, ugly and suffocating.

His lip curled. “You really think I’d hurt your friend?”

Before she could answer, he shoved past her into the apartment, his movements sharp with barely leashed fury. He pulled something from his pocket—a crumpled receipt—and thrust it at her.

“Look at it.”

Lila took it with numb fingers. The paper was damp from the rain, the ink slightly smudged, but the details were clear. A bar tab. The Rusty Anchor. A signature at the bottom—Adrian’s name, slashed in his familiar, impatient handwriting.

The timestamp: 3:58 AM.

Her mind spun. The security camera photo had been timestamped at 4:17. The Rusty Anchor was across town—a twenty-minute drive, at least.

“I was there,” Adrian growled. “All night. Ask the bartender. Ask the fucking regulars. I didn’t leave until sunrise.”

Lila’s throat tightened. It was an alibi. A solid one.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

Her gaze flicked up to his. “Then why the note? Why tell me not to answer the door?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Because I knew you’d jump to conclusions.” His voice dropped, turning dangerously soft. “Because I knew you wouldn’t trust me.”

The guilt hit her like a slap. She had doubted him. The second she saw that photo, she’d let fear twist her thoughts.

“Adrian, I—”

He stepped into her space, his hand catching her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You don’t get to apologize,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “Not yet.”

Then his mouth was on hers, hard and demanding, his kiss a punishment and a claim all at once. Lila melted into it, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed warnings.

When he pulled away, his eyes were dark with something unreadable. “Let’s rest,” he said. 

That night.

Adrian slept like the dead beside her, his breathing deep and even, one arm slung possessively over her waist. Lila lay still, her mind racing.

The receipt made sense. The alibi checked out.

So why couldn’t she shake the feeling that something was wrong?

Carefully, she slid out from under his arm, her bare feet silent against the floor. Adrian didn’t stir.

His jacket was slung over the chair by the door, the same one he’d been wearing earlier. Her pulse spiked as she crept toward it, her fingers slipping into the pockets.

Empty.

She almost gave up. Almost.

Then her hand brushed against the inner lining—and her fingertips caught on a small, stiff rectangle of paper.

She pulled it out.

A parking stub.

The address was blurred by rain, but the time stamp was crystal clear.

4:02 AM.

And the location—

A garage two blocks from Chloe’s apartment.

Lila’s blood turned to ice.

Adrian had lied.