The warehouse sat on the edge of the industrial district, half-swallowed by fog and silence. No one came out here unless they had something to hide.
Adrian leaned against the metal frame of the entrance, hood pulled low over his face. The cold bit at his knuckles. He didn't mind. The stillness gave him time to think.
At 12:06 a.m., headlights swept across the lot. A silver car rolled in slow and silent, parking just short of the building. The driver's door opened, and she stepped out like she owned the night.
Lena Roth wasn't the kind of woman people overlooked. Tall, sharp-eyed, unbothered. No theatrics. She moved like someone who'd already survived things most people couldn't name.
She lit a cigarette as she approached, the flame flaring briefly against her cheekbone. Her jacket was worn, one sleeve torn at the elbow. Her boots were scuffed. She always looked like she was walking away from something that had just burned down.
She stopped in front of Adrian and gave him a once-over. "Rough night?"
He didn't answer. He pushed the door open, letting her inside. The warehouse was dim, lit only by a row of overhead bulbs that buzzed faintly against the concrete emptiness. Tools lay scattered across a table. A cleaned-down barrel sat in the corner, empty now.
Lena exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling.
"You took care of it," she said.
Adrian nodded. "Same as always."
"But it's not the same, is it?"
He looked at her, eyes steady. "What do you mean?"
She turned away from him and started walking along the wall, fingers brushing against the old brick. "You've been different. Quieter. Hesitant."
"You think I'm getting sloppy?"
"No," she said, pausing. "I think you're falling in love."
He didn't reply. Silence settled between them like dust.
Lena turned, arms crossed. "Eva's changing you."
"She doesn't know anything."
"She doesn't need to. That's the problem."
Adrian picked up a rag from the workbench and started wiping down a wrench that hadn't been touched in days. It gave his hands something to do.
"She thinks I'm someone else," he said after a moment.
"She thinks you're someone good," Lena replied. "And maybe part of you wants to be. That's the part I don't trust."
Adrian looked up. "So what do you want from me?"
"I don't want anything," Lena said. "I know what you are. That's why I'm still here."
Her voice had softened, but there was nothing gentle in it. No sympathy. Just certainty.
She walked closer, stopping a foot away.
"You can pretend with her. You can play house and eat pancakes and talk about leaving the city. But one day, she's going to look at you and see it. The thing you've been hiding."
He met her gaze. "And what if she does?"
"Then you'll kill her," Lena said, not blinking. "Or worse, you won't. And that's when everything falls apart."
He let out a slow breath. "You sound jealous."
She smiled faintly. "I'm not. I just know how stories like yours end."
They stood in silence for a while, the warehouse humming around them.
Before she left, Lena stepped closer and touched his chest, just for a moment. Not affection. Just a reminder.
"You don't belong in the light," she said. "Stop pretending you do."
Then she turned and walked out into the fog, leaving him alone with nothing but the cold and the truth he didn't want to hear.