Rain's POV:
I have to be smart about this .
Matt's already booked the tickets for a 3 p.m. flight.
Which gives me the entire morning to prepare… and to say a quiet goodbye to the life I built here.
Boston isn't ideal.
Chicago is home—Mom, warmth, familiarity.
But if someone is actually after me, I'm not dragging danger right up to her doorstep.
So Boston becomes the compromise, the in-between place that keeps me moving but still close enough to breathe the same air as home.
Jake is with me—Dane's minion number one.
Loyal, watchful, irritatingly earnest.
A wall standing between me and freedom.
I think about my apartment as we drive, committing every stupid little detail to memory—the plant dying on the windowsill, the mug on my kitchen counter, the faint scent of lavender I've lived with for years.
I didn't think leaving would sting this much.
But I don't have time to mourn.
Not now.
I have a plan.
And I need it to work.
Every step. Every second. Every lie.
Because if even one thing goes wrong…
Well. It won't. It can't.
"Jake, right?" I give him a polite, pleasant smile—the kind that softens men's brains like microwaved butter.
He startles, actually startles, like he's not used to being acknowledged by a living woman.
Adorable.
In an embarrassing, puppy-left-in-the-rain way.
"Yes, ma'am," he says stiffly, shoulders squared like he's guarding Buckingham Palace.
"Oh, no need for all that formality." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, tilting my head just enough to look harmless.
"I just need to stop at a pharmacy. Could you pull over at the nearest one?"
I widen my eyes. Play the doe.
His chest expands like someone inflated him with a bicycle pump.
"I'll get it for you. Just give me a list."
Is that so?
"Okay…" I let out a tiny, embarrassed sigh.
"I need tampons. And um… condoms? I don't know if Dane… carries them."
I lower my voice conspiratorially.
"Just get the largest size you find. And my birth control pills—if he decides to skip protection."
He freezes.
The man looks like he just walked in on his parents reenacting their honeymoon.
"I—I'll wait outside," he blurts, practically stumbling over his own feet.
"You can go in, ma'am. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude—"
His eyes are glued to the floor like looking at me might burn him alive.
Poor thing.
"Are you sure?" I ask sweetly.
"Want me to grab you something?"
His ears turn pink.
"No, ma'am. Thank you. You're very kind. He's right about you… you're a real gem."
A gem.
Not sure if you will feel that way for long.
And please—don't take it personally.
We pull up to the store and I slip out of the car with the most delicate, innocent smile I can muster.
Inside, I grab what I actually need… and then toss in a few extra things just for dramatic effect.
A jumbo box of tampons.
A chocolate bar the size of my forearm.
And a pack of condoms so huge it looks like a gag gift.
Let Jake really wonder what kind of couple he's guarding.
When I walk out swinging the bag, he refuses to meet my eyes like I'm holding radioactive sin.
I almost laugh.
We reach my apartment, and I slip into character so smoothly it feels almost natural.
"Oh—can you help me with this?"
I ask it gently, with a soft laugh like I'm embarrassed to trouble him.
"Oh, um, could you lift that one? It's a little heavy."
I tuck my hair behind my ear, giving a small apologetic smile.
I hate this.
I like my apartment the way I keep it — every book, every mug, every stupid throw pillow exactly where it's supposed to be.
And now everything is shuffled around, touched, moved.
Once I'm back, I'll have to reset the whole place like nothing ever happened.
I send Mom a quick text, telling her I'll be swallowed by shifts for the next few days.
The lie rolls off my fingers with shocking ease.
Maybe survival makes you fluent in dishonesty.
Jake is in my bedroom now, counting boxes .
I open my bag and pull out the injector I bought, the metal cool against my palm.
I twist the vial of Nexoval in.
One dose. That's all it takes.
Fast, clean, efficient.
Seconds.
I breathe steady, the plan lining up neatly in my mind.
"Jake?" I call, stepping into the room all warm smiles and relaxed shoulders.
"Are you hungry?" I ask lightly. "I was thinking of ordering pizza for us."
"Oh—no, ma'am. That's not necessary. We're almost done here."
He sounds so earnest it's almost… endearing.
I tilt my head, letting a touch of flustered confusion soften my expression.
"Oh. Um… my undergarments are still out. I didn't finish that part."
That does it.
His face goes crimson, eyes darting anywhere but at me.
"I—I can step outside," he stammers, mortified.
Poor guy.
He really believes he's protecting my dignity.
I give a tiny, shy laugh.
"It's okay, Jake. You can just turn around. I'll manage."
He turns immediately, shoulders locked in the world's stiffest line.
I slide a drawer open — loud enough that he hears something happening —
then move silently across the carpet.
One breath.
One clear shot.
I press the injector to the side of his neck and push.
His body jolts in surprise.
"Wha— wait— you—"
But his voice melts away.
His knees go soft and he slumps forward onto the floor in a heavy heap.
Nothing personal, Jake.
Wrong assignment, wrong girl.
Now that Jake is on the floor, unconscious, I have twenty minutes—maybe less—before someone checks in on him.
I grab the small bag I packed earlier when he wasn't looking.
Clothes, essentials, my documents.
I kept it light, easy to run with.
I'm almost out the apartment door when I freeze.
A black car waits downstairs.
A slight delay—not a disaster.
I slip back inside and head for the fire exit.
The metal door creaks softly as I push it open, cold air hitting my face as I take the stairs down the back of the building.
I call myself an Uber.
Three minutes.
Good.
It arrives quickly, and I slide into the back seat, heart pounding but controlled.
As the car pulls away from the curb, the tension in my spine finally loosens.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
But my chest tightens before I even swipe.
I answer anyway.
"Hey," Dane says, his voice warm and hopeful.
"All ready to leave?"
"Yeah," I say, steady. "All set."
A pause.
Then—soft,
"I'll see you soon."
There's hope in his voice, and something heavier beneath it—
like he's holding his breath, waiting for me to match it.
"Bye, Danny."
I hang up before something stupid lodges in my throat.
I plug in my earphones.
Music fills the silence, but it doesn't touch the adrenaline buzzing through my blood.
It doesn't mute the ache of leaving my home behind and leaving him too.
That's when I feel it.
The car slows…
then keeps rolling straight, slipping right past the turn for the airport.
My stomach drops.
"Uh—you missed the—"
I lean forward, confused, already half rising out of my seat.
But the driver's hand moves faster.
A cloth.
Pressed hard over my mouth and nose.
I suck in a startled breath—too fast, too deep—and the smell hits me.
Sharp. Chemical. Wrong.
Panic slams through me.
I twist away, claw at his wrist, try to kick the door, anything—
but my body starts to thicken, like someone poured cement into my veins.
My vision tilts. Blurs.
The world pulls away from me, slow and sideways.
I'm still fighting—
or at least, I think I am—and then everything just… slips.
Darkness swallows me whole.
Well karma truly is a bitch.