I stared at the photo until my eyes burned.
The man smiling back at me looked harmless. Familiar. Someone I had shared conversations with, laughter with, someone who had never once set off my instincts.
Which meant I had already failed.
My phone vibrated softly on the desk, like it was impatient.
Unknown: I'm waiting.
I swallowed and looked around the room. No windows. No clocks. Just white walls and quiet pressure pressing in from every direction. This place wasn't meant to scare people. It was meant to normalize what came next.
"You want everything I know about him," I whispered to myself.
My voice sounded wrong in the room. Too small.
I thought of Tara's face on the screen. Hollow. Apologetic. Afraid.
I unlocked my phone.
Not because I was ready.
Because I was out of time.
I started with harmless things.
Where I'd met him. How often I saw him. What I knew on the surface. I typed carefully, choosing words that felt safe, neutral. Facts without conclusions.
Me: We met through mutual friends. He works nearby. I don't know much beyond that.
The reply came quickly.
Unknown: That's not what you wrote in your journal.
My chest tightened.
I flipped through the pages of my own handwriting in my head, questions I'd scribbled late at night, patterns I'd noticed but never shared.
He knew exactly where to push.
Unknown: Try again.
I closed my eyes.
This was the line.
I could feel it clearly now, stretching thin beneath my feet.
If I crossed it, there was no pretending I was still innocent.
I typed.
Me: He lies about where he goes on weekends. He avoids specific questions. He has unexplained cash flow. And he panics when law enforcement comes up.
My fingers hovered.
Then I added the last part.
Me: He was near the area the night everything happened.
The three dots appeared.
Paused.
Then:
Unknown: Good.
The word made my stomach churn.
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
I jumped.
It opened without waiting for permission.
A woman stepped in, mid-thirties, calm face, clipboard in hand. She looked like someone who worked in an office, not someone complicit in quiet destruction.
"Follow me," she said.
I stood slowly. "Where are we going?"
"To confirm your information," she replied.
That didn't sound like a conversation.
The room she led me to was darker. Smaller. A single table in the center. Two chairs. A mirror on the wall that I knew wasn't just a mirror.
Someone else was watching.
"Sit," she said.
I sat.
Moments later, the door opened again.
And he walked in.
The man from the photo.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
His smile faded when he saw me.
"Lila?" he said, confused. "What's going on?"
I opened my mouth.
No sound came out.
The woman took the seat beside me. "We just have a few questions," she said smoothly. "You don't mind helping us, do you?"
He laughed nervously. "Of course not. But why is she...."
"Because she knows you," the woman said. "And she's already been very helpful."
His eyes snapped to mine.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
I couldn't meet his gaze.
I felt the weight of it then, the moment my silence became its own kind of violence.
"Lila?" he pressed. "What did you tell them?"
My pulse roared in my ears.
Say something, I told myself.
Stop this.
Pull back.
But Tara's face flashed in my mind.
And my mouth betrayed me.
"I told them the truth," I said quietly.
His face drained of color.
"What truth?" he asked.
The woman slid a folder onto the table.
"Why don't you tell us," she said, "where you were that night?"
He laughed again, but this time it sounded brittle. "This is ridiculous."
I watched him unravel in real time, his posture stiffening, his hands tightening, his eyes darting toward the door.
I knew those signs.
I'd written them down once.
He turned to me, desperation creeping into his voice. "Lila, you know me. You know I wouldn't..."
"Answer the question," the woman interrupted.
He looked back at me.
And in that moment, something cracked open in his expression.
Understanding.
"You used me," he said softly. "You fed me to them."
The words sliced through me.
"I didn't have a choice," I whispered.
He shook his head slowly. "You always have a choice."
The woman stood. "We'll continue this without you."
Two men appeared at the door.
As they escorted him out, his eyes never left mine.
Not angry.
Not hateful.
Just… disappointed.
The door closed.
The room felt suddenly airless.
"Well done," the woman said.
I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"You promised she'd be safe," I said, voice shaking. "I did what you asked."
She regarded me coolly. "And she still is."
"For now," I snapped.
She didn't deny it.
"You crossed your first real line today," she continued. "That matters."
I laughed hollowly. "You think I don't know that?"
She studied me for a moment. "Most people break the first time. Cry. Beg. Collapse."
"And what about me?" I asked.
She tilted her head. "You adapted."
That scared me more than anything else.
Back in the room, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands.
They looked the same.
Clean.
Normal.
But I knew better.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown: You did well.
I didn't reply.
Another message came through.
Unknown: But you missed something.
My chest tightened.
Me: What?
Several seconds passed.
Then my screen filled with a live video feed.
Tara again.
This time, she was crying.
Not quietly.
Not restrained.
She was begging.
"I did what you asked," I whispered. "You said...."
Unknown: I said cooperation buys time.
The camera shifted.
A second person stepped into the frame.
Someone new.
Someone I recognized instantly.
My blood turned to ice.
Because the face staring back at me wasn't a stranger.
It was someone I loved.
Someone I trusted.
Someone I never would have suspected.
Unknown: You chose wrong.
The feed cut out.
I sat there, shaking, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
I had crossed the line.
And the cost of that choice was clearer now than ever.
This wasn't about saving Tara anymore.
It was about deciding who I was willing to destroy next.
If this chapter made your chest tighten, if you felt torn about Lila's decision, or if you're still thinking about that final moment—
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Things are about to spiral… and Chapter 14 won't be gentle.
Thank you for reading. Truly