She knelt, slipping her fingers into his pocket to retrieve the key. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” Her face was expressionless, but in her eyes lingered something darker—something that looked like regret. She turned to me, a faint, crooked smile pulling at her lips as she moved closer.
“Good job,” I muttered, managing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Now cut me out of this thing.”
She shot me a look, eyebrow arched, her eyes dancing between amusement and something sharper, almost regretful. “Yeah, about that...”
She knelt beside me, her fingers brushing the skin of my arm. There was something soft in her touch, an apology wrapped in the moment. “Sorry, Jack,” she whispered, her voice cracking, the pin in her hand catching the dim light.
“Wait!” I gasped, the word slipping out more like a plea than I’d have liked.
She paused, her eyes meeting mine, and I could see the hesitation there—the conflict. Something human left in her, at least. “You gonna at least tell me what the hell is going on?” I rasped. “You owe me that much, don’t you?”
She studied me, her gaze lingering, as if she was weighing a choice far heavier than the pin poised in her hand. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping.
“I guess you deserve that much,” she said. “Sorry about getting you tangled up in all this. But don’t worry, Jackie. It’s almost over. My boss doesn’t care about you, not really. Just the Box. Or more specifically, what’s inside it. We knew someone wasn’t keeping up their end of the bargain, but he needed proof. And you… well, you were useful bait to flush them out.”
“Bait?” I hissed, the word like acid on my tongue. “You took one hell of a gamble getting me involved. What if I’d run off with the key?”
She smiled, and for a second, I could almost see the person she might’ve been. “I read your file, Jack. You’re not the type. And besides, I’ve been watching. Since the beginning.”
I blinked, a cold realization dawning. “Watching? You mean… you’ve been my shadow this whole time?”
She gave me a faint nod, her smile both apologetic and sly. “You nearly caught me a few times, too. I have to say, I underestimated you.”
“McGuffey Estate… that was you?” I muttered, the memory slotting into place; a small piece of the puzzle.
“Guilty,” she said with a lazy shrug, her tone casual, like they were discussing the weather. “Look, I took a calculated risk. Cat was keeping his cards way too close—couldn’t tell if he was hiding it himself or if the Council already had their claws on it. So, I had to shake things up, turn up the heat, flush everyone out, and see where the pieces landed.” She smirked, leaning in. “Tonight, Cat got sloppy—practically spilled the beans. And your pal Kane here? Well, he just confirmed it all. We can’t go to war blind, sweetheart. Alliances are about trust, or at least knowing who’s waiting to stab you in the back.”
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“And now?”
“Now we know exactly who not to trust.”
“And who are you doing all of this for?” I asked.
She hesitated, her gaze flitting away, a shadow passing over her expression. “That’s as far as I can take you, Jack. I’m sorry.”
“Mr. Silhouette,” I said, the name like a ghost slipping from my lips, the pieces clicking together at last.
Her eyes widened, curiosity flickering across her face, mixed with something like surprise—and exhaustion. “Who?”
“The guy Cat’s working for,” I continued, my voice quieter now. “At the meeting tonight.”
She tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “Never heard him called that before. You’re too clever for your own damn good, you know that?” She paused, her lips parting, then closing, as if there was more she wanted to say but couldn’t.
The silence between us stretched, heavy with all the things we couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say. The weight of the night, the chaos, the betrayals—it settled in that silence, a wall between us neither of us had the strength to climb.
“I really am sorry, Jack,” she murmured, her voice so soft it sounded like she was speaking to herself. “Dragging you into this mess… none of it was fair. I shouldn’t have—you didn’t ask for any of this.” Her gaze drifted somewhere distant. “I was a big fan, you know? Back then. I used to read about you in the papers. That part wasn’t a lie. I’d always wanted to meet you.” She paused, almost wistful. “I thought… maybe if things had been different, if we’d met under different stars…” Her voice faltered, and for a fleeting moment, the mask slipped, leaving something raw and unguarded. Or was that, too, just another mask beneath the last? Who was the real Aylin? What lay hidden behind those intense, unreadable eyes?
“In another life, perhaps,” she whispered, nodding faintly as though convincing herself it might have been true. A sad smile ghosted across her lips before her face hardened, the walls snapping back up. Her fingers tightened around the pin.
I shifted uncomfortably on the floor. “One last thing—think you could toss me my jacket? It’s rather cold.” I nodded toward the far side of the warehouse, where it lay draped over a crate, Frank’s presence faintly pulsing from within. The connection was thin, a barely perceptible thrum—no words, just the subtle awareness that he was there, watching, holding on.
Aylin caught my glance, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she rolled her eyes. “Nice try,” she said softly, her voice edged with a teasing finality. “Goodnight, Jack.”
A sharp sting bit into my arm, numbness spreading fast, catching words on my tongue before I could speak. Her face blurred, but the mix of defiance and sorrow in her eyes burned through, unshakable. She leaned down, her lips pressing to mine in a fierce, almost desperate kiss that tasted of goodbye.
My mind spun, caught between the fading warmth of her lips and the rising fog, emotions tangled in knots I didn’t know how to unravel. Whether she meant any of it, I couldn’t say—but some part of me wished she did.