hrough my office as my fist crashes against the desk. The force sends a glass of whiskey toppling over, the amber liquid spilling across the dark wood. Alex was innocent. We killed the wrong man

heat flushes through me at the thought of stepping inside that space, of standing there-close enough to breathe the same air she does. Close enough to see her in these quiet, unguarded moments. I shake the thought off. She sits down, head bowing slightly. Her fingers toy with something in her lap-a phone, maybe? A book? Whatever it is, her expression is unreadable from this distance. For a long while, she stays like that, lost in thought. Then, finally, she leans over and flicks off the lamp. Darkness. I exhale slowly. That's my cue. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine hums to life, low and steady. I steal one last glance at the now-dark window before pulling away from the curb. This time, I don't stop. But I already know I'll be back. Chloe's POV Beeeeeeeeep! I blindly smack my alarm clock, groaning as I pull the blanket over my head. The shrill sound claws at my brain, dragging me out of the fragile sleep I barely got. My limbs feel heavy, like I spent the whole night running instead of tossing and turning in bed. For a moment, I let myself sink deeper into the mattress, hoping for just a few more minutes of peace. But my mind won't let me. The news report from last night replays in my head. Nicholas. Alex Gray. The mafia. My stomach twists. I throw off the blanket with a frustrated sigh, blinking up at the ceiling as the early morning light seeps through the curtains. It's pale and weak, barely reaching the corners of my small room. The air feels cold against my skin, making me curl into myself before forcing my body to move. Survive. Keep moving. Act normal. I push myself up and rub the sleep from my eyes, forcing my sluggish limbs to cooperate. My bed is the first thing I tackle, smoothing out the sheets and fluffing the pillow before tossing the blanket back in place. It's a routine I don't even think about-it keeps my hands busy, my mind distracted. With a stretch, I head toward the bathroom, yawning as I flick on the light. The mirror greets me with a reflection I barely recognize. My blonde hair is a tangled mess, sticking out in different directions, and there are faint shadows under my blue eyes. I sigh, pushing my hair back before turning on the faucet. The cool splash of water against my skin is a relief. I take my time, letting the sensation ground me as I scrub my face and brush my teeth. The shower comes next. I step under the hot stream, allowing it to loosen the tension coiled in my shoulders. Steam fills the small space, fogging up the mirror. I close my eyes, resting my forehead against the cool tiles. I need to stop overthinking. Nicholas is just a customer. That's all he ever was. Except now I know the truth. I exhale sharply, pushing the thought away as I wash my hair, running my fingers through the strands until they're silky and smooth again. Once I'm clean, I wrap a towel around myself and head back to my room. Dressing is another mindless task. I pull on a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, something warm and comfortable. My fingers automatically reach for a hairbrush, dragging it through my damp locks until they fall in soft waves down my back. I debate tying it up but decide against it. The scent of coffee drifts from downstairs. Mom's already at the shop. I glance at the clock. I still have time before I need to leave, so I move to the small vanity in the corner of my room. I don't usually wear much makeup, but today, I reach for some concealer, dabbing it u