MARRY YOUR KILLER
Chapter Seven: The Gathering
---
Freya arrived in twenty-three minutes.
Jay knew because she counted. Twenty-three minutes from the moment Freya hung up to the moment the door opened and her girls walked in like an army descending on enemy territory.
Freya came first, as always. Her eyes found Jay immediately—sitting on the sofa, ice pack pressed to her jaw, stitches in her lip, alive. Something flickered across Freya's face. Relief. Guilt. Rage. She didn't say anything. She just walked to Jay's side and stood there, close enough to touch, close enough to protect, and her hand found Jay's shoulder and stayed.
Rakki came next, quiet for once, her usual chaos banked into something cold and focused. She scanned the room like she was looking for something to break. Her eyes landed on Keifer, standing by the window, and stayed there.
Mica came with her laptop, already open, already working. She sat at the dining table without looking at anyone. Her face was pale. Her hands were steady.
Ella came with Care and Grace. Care had her medical bag. Grace had her fists. They moved to Jay's side, Care kneeling in front of her, checking her injuries, her hands gentle where Freya's were fierce.
Lyra came last.
She slipped through the door like smoke, silent, unseen, her presence more felt than heard. She didn't go to Jay. She didn't check on her. She stood in the corner, arms crossed, face blank, eyes cold. She looked at no one. She spoke to no one. She was a shadow in a room full of light, and she wanted to keep it that way.
---
Keifer hadn't moved from the window.
He stood with his back to the room, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders set. He had cleaned the blood from his hands. He had changed his shirt again. But there was still a smear of red on his collar that he hadn't noticed, and Jay saw the girls see it.
Freya saw it first.
"Answer her," Freya said. Her voice was flat. Dead. The voice she used before she killed someone.
Keifer turned. He looked at Jay first. A quick glance, a question. She nodded. He looked at Freya.
"Her uncle's men. Six of them. They were waiting outside the dress shop. They had a van. They were going to take her."
"Six men," Rakki said. Her voice was too light. Too easy. "Six men, and you just happened to be there."
"I was following her."
The room went still.
"You were following her," Freya repeated.
"I've been watching her uncle's people for two years. They've been moving more than usual. I had a feeling something was going to happen. I should have warned her. I should have—"
"You should have stayed away from her." Freya moved. Fast. Too fast. She crossed the room in three steps, her hand closing around Keifer's collar, slamming him against the wall. "She was bleeding because of your family. Because of your war. Because of you."
Keifer didn't fight back. His hands stayed at his sides. His face was calm.
"Yes," he said.
Freya's fist pulled back.
"Freya." Jay's voice was quiet. "Let him go."
Freya didn't move.
"Let him go." Jay stood up. Her ribs screamed. Her jaw throbbed. She didn't let it show. She walked across the room, slow and steady, and stopped beside Freya. "He saved my life."
"He put you in danger."
"He saved my life."
Freya stared at her for a long moment. Then she let go. She stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides, her face still hard, still angry, but something else there too. Something that looked like understanding.
Keifer didn't move. He stayed against the wall, his collar twisted, his breathing steady.
"I'm not your enemy," he said.
"You're a Watson," Rakki said. "That's the same thing."
"It was." He looked at Jay. "It doesn't have to be."
---
The door opened again.
Jay hadn't heard anyone knock. She hadn't heard footsteps in the hallway. But the door opened, and a man walked in, and the room shifted.
He was tall. Dark hair, dark eyes, an easy smile that said he had never met a situation he couldn't charm his way out of. He moved like he owned every room he walked into. He was carrying a bag—medical supplies, from the look of it—and he was already talking before he was through the door.
"Keifer, you could have called. I was in a very important meeting. With very important people. Do you know how hard it is to get a meeting with the Korean investors? Very hard. And you texted 'bring supplies' and then you stopped answering, so I had to drive across the city like a maniac, and now my suit is ruined, and if anyone asks, I was never here because I'm supposed to be in a boardroom right now—"
He stopped.
He saw the room. The girls. The blood on the carpet. Jay on the sofa, her face bruised, her lip stitched. Keifer against the wall, his collar twisted, his hands still bloody.
He looked at Keifer. "What the hell happened?"
"Later," Keifer said. "Did you bring the supplies?"
Alex held up the bag. "Antibiotics, painkillers, something for the swelling. Also, there's a woman in the hallway who looks like she wants to kill me, so if someone could—"
He didn't finish.
He was walking toward the kitchen, still talking, still moving, and he didn't see Lyra standing in the corner. He turned. His shoulder hit hers. The bag flew out of his hand. Medical supplies scattered across the floor.
He stumbled. She didn't.
Alex looked up. Lyra looked down.
Their eyes met.
---
The room went quiet.
Alex straightened up. He was taller than her by a head, broader, louder, everything about him too much and too bright. Lyra was still in the corner, still cold, still blank, her arms still crossed, her face giving nothing.
"Watch where you're going," Lyra said.
Her voice was ice. Flat. Empty. The voice she used when she wanted someone to know they were nothing to her.
Alex blinked. Then he smiled. It was the smile of a man who had never been spoken to like that in his life.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Lyra didn't move. "Watch where you're going."
"I wasn't the one standing in the middle of the hallway like a—"
"Like a what?"
Alex's smile tightened. He stepped closer. Too close. Lyra didn't step back.
"Like a statue," he said. "You don't make noise. You don't move. You just stand there in the dark like you're waiting for someone to walk into you."
"Maybe you should look where you're going."
"Maybe you should announce yourself before you—"
"I don't announce myself."
"I noticed."
"Then why are you still talking?"
Alex's jaw dropped. He looked at Keifer. Keifer was watching with the expression of a man who had decided this was not his problem. He looked at the girls. Rakki was grinning. Freya's anger had been replaced by something that looked almost like amusement. Care was hiding her smile behind her hand. Grace was openly enjoying it.
Even Mica had looked up from her laptop.
"You," Alex said, turning back to Lyra. "Who do you think you are?"
"Someone who was standing here first."
"You were lurking."
"I was standing."
"Same thing."
"It's really not."
Alex ran a hand through his hair. It was messy now, falling across his forehead, and he looked younger, less polished, more human. "You know what? I don't have to stand here and be insulted by someone who—"
"Then don't."
"I'm not."
"Then leave."
"I'm not leaving."
"Then stop complaining."
"I'm not complaining. I'm stating facts."
Lyra's eyebrow lifted. It was the smallest movement, barely noticeable, but Jay saw it. She had never seen Lyra react to anyone before. She had never seen Lyra's mask slip, not once, not for anything.
"You don't know what facts are," Lyra said.
Alex made a sound like a kettle about to boil. "I have a degree in finance. I know what facts are."
"Good for you."
"It is good for me. It's very good for me. I'm very successful. I'm a billionaire. I'm Alex Choi. People know who I am."
Lyra looked at him for a long moment. Then she looked away, back to the window, back to the dark, like he wasn't worth her attention.
"Good for you," she said again. And this time, her voice was so flat, so empty, so completely uninterested that it was worse than any insult.
Alex stared at her. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Rakki started laughing.
---
Alex turned on her. "What are you laughing at?"
"You," Rakki said, still laughing. "You walked into her. You dropped your bag. You started a fight. And now you're standing there with your mouth open like a fish."
"My mouth is not open like a fish."
"It's open like a fish."
"It's not."
"Alex," Keifer said quietly. "Let it go."
"No." Alex was looking at Lyra again. She wasn't looking at him. That seemed to make it worse. "I want to know who she is."
"No, you don't," Keifer said.
"I do."
"Alex."
"What? She insulted me. She called me—she said—" He stopped. Took a breath. His voice dropped. "Who is she?"
Keifer looked at Lyra. Lyra didn't look at anyone. She was still by the window, still cold, still blank, her face turned away from them all.
"Her name is Lyra," Keifer said. "She's with Jay."
"Lyra." Alex said the name like he was tasting it. "Lyra what?"
Keifer glanced at Lyra. She didn't answer. She didn't move.
"Just Lyra," Keifer said.
Alex stared at him. Then he looked at Lyra again. She still wasn't looking at him.
"You're making that up," Alex said.
"I'm not."
"She has a last name. Everyone has a last name. It's a basic fact of human existence. You have a first name and a last name. It's how the world works."
Lyra turned. Just her head, just her eyes, just enough to let him know she was acknowledging his existence.
"I don't work the way the world works," she said.
She turned back to the window.
Alex stood there for a long moment. His hands were on his hips. His hair was a mess. His expensive suit was wrinkled from the drive. He looked like a man who had just been told that everything he knew was wrong.
He pointed at Lyra. "I don't like you."
She didn't respond.
"Did you hear me? I said I don't like you."
Nothing.
"I really don't like you. I think you're rude. And cold. And you stand in corners like a—like a—"
"Like a what?" Lyra's voice was soft. Almost bored.
Alex opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I don't know," he said finally. "But I don't like it."
Rakki was laughing so hard she had to hold onto the wall. Even Freya's mouth had twitched, just once, before she controlled it again. Care was hiding her face in Grace's shoulder. Grace was grinning.
Keifer pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Alex," he said. "The supplies?"
Alex looked down at the floor. The medical supplies were still scattered everywhere—bandages, tape, bottles of pills, a small pair of scissors. He looked at them. He looked at Lyra. He looked back at the supplies.
"You," he said to Lyra. "Pick those up."
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"I mean no." Lyra didn't move. "You dropped them. You pick them up."
"I dropped them because you were standing there like a—"
"A what? You still haven't figured out the word."
Alex's face went red. He bent down and started grabbing supplies, shoving them back into the bag, muttering under his breath. Jay caught words like unbelievable and never met anyone so rude and doesn't even have a last name.
Lyra watched him. Her face was still blank. But her eyes—her eyes followed him as he moved, quick and sharp, and there was something there that hadn't been there before.
Something that might have been interest.
---
Alex stood up, the bag clutched to his chest. His face was still red. His hair was still a mess. He looked at Lyra one more time.
"I'm going to find out your last name," he said.
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am. I have resources. I have people. I'm very rich. I can find out anything."
"You'll waste your money."
"It's my money to waste."
Lyra looked at him. Just for a second. Just long enough for something to pass between them—something that made Alex's face go still, something that made his hand tighten on the bag.
"Good luck," she said.
She turned back to the window.
Alex stood there for a long moment. Then he walked to Keifer, shoved the bag at his chest, and said, "I don't like her."
"You mentioned that."
"I really don't like her."
"I know."
"I'm going to find out her last name."
"You mentioned that too."
Alex turned toward the door. He stopped. He looked back at Lyra. She wasn't looking at him. She hadn't moved from the window, hadn't turned, hadn't acknowledged that he was still in the room.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"You're still standing in the corner," he said.
"I like the corner."
"It's a weird place to stand."
"It's my corner now."
"Corners don't belong to people."
"This one does."
Alex stared at her. Then he laughed. It was a surprised sound, like it had escaped before he could stop it. He shook his head, still laughing, and walked out the door.
But before he left, he looked back one more time.
And Lyra, just for a moment, looked back at him.
---
The door closed.
The room was quiet.
Rakki was wiping tears from her eyes. "I love him," she said. "I've never met him, but I love him. Can we keep him?"
Keifer sighed. "He's not a pet."
"Can he be?"
"No."
"Can Lyra keep him?"
Lyra turned from the window. Her face was blank again, cold again, the mask back in place. But Jay saw it. The way her eyes lingered on the door. The way her fingers moved, just once, like she was reaching for something that wasn't there.
"I don't want him," Lyra said.
"Could have fooled me," Rakki said.
Lyra looked at her. "I don't want him."
"Sure."
"I don't."
"Okay."
Lyra crossed her arms. She looked at the door again. Then she looked at the window. Then she looked at the door again.
"I'm going to check the perimeter," she said.
She walked toward the door. Her steps were fast. Too fast. She was almost running.
"She's going to check the perimeter," Rakki said. "In a house she's never been to. In a neighborhood she doesn't know. To look for a man she doesn't want."
Lyra stopped at the door. She didn't turn around.
"I don't want him," she said again.
Then she was gone.
---
The rest of the night passed in pieces.
Care took over Jay's treatment, examining Keifer's stitches, cleaning the cuts on her hands, wrapping her ribs. She worked in silence, her face calm, her hands gentle.
Mica set up at the dining table, her laptop open, her fingers moving. She was tracking the men from the attack, the ones who had gotten away, the ones who hadn't. She was finding connections. Patterns. Names.
Freya stood guard at the window, watching the street below. She didn't look at Keifer. She didn't look at anyone. But she was listening. Jay could see it in the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her head.
Rakki sat on the arm of the sofa, her legs swinging, her eyes moving. She was still grinning.
"Alex Choi," she said. "I'm going to remember that name."
Keifer sighed. "Please don't."
"He's very rich, you said. Very successful. Very loud." She looked at the door where Lyra had disappeared. "She's going to kill him."
"She might," Keifer admitted.
"Or she might not."
Keifer didn't answer.
Rakki's grin widened.
---
The sun was rising when they finally left.
Freya went first, pulling Rakki with her, promising to find the men who had gotten away. Mica went next, her laptop under her arm, her eyes already distant, already planning. Care and Grace left together, Grace's arm around Care's shoulders, Care's medical bag swinging at her side.
Ella was the last to go. She knelt in front of Jay, took her hands, looked at her face.
"You're going to be okay," Ella said.
"I know."
"You're going to let him help you."
It wasn't a question.
Jay didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Ella smiled. She kissed Jay's forehead, soft and quick, and then she was gone.
Lyra came back as the door closed. She walked in like nothing had happened. Her face was cold. Her eyes were blank. She went to her corner and stood there, arms crossed, watching.
She didn't look at the door.
She didn't mention Alex.
But Jay saw it. The way her fingers moved at her sides. The way her eyes kept drifting to the window that faced the street. The way she was waiting for something that might not come.
---
When the room was empty, Keifer sat beside Jay on the sofa.
The sun was coming up now, light filtering through the curtains, painting the room gold. Jay leaned her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes.
"You should sleep," Keifer said.
"I should go home."
"Your penthouse isn't safe. Not until we know who your uncle has on the inside."
She opened her eyes. "You want me to stay here."
"I want you to be safe. If that means staying here, then yes. Stay here."
She looked at him. The exhaustion in his face. The tension in his shoulders. The way his hand was resting on the sofa between them, close enough to touch.
"What about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
"When do you sleep?"
He smiled. "I don't."
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she closed her eyes again.
She heard him move. Felt the weight of a blanket settling over her shoulders. Felt his hand, light on her hair, brushing it away from her face.
"Sleep," he said. "I'll be here."
She wanted to tell him that she didn't need him to be here. That she had been taking care of herself for years. That she didn't trust him, didn't know him.
But she was tired. And the blanket was warm. And his hand was still in her hair, steady and gentle, like he was afraid she would break.
She was asleep before she finished the thought.
---
In the corner, Lyra Kulkarni watched.
She watched Keifer sit beside Jay. She watched his hand move through Jay's hair. She watched the way he looked at her when she slept—like she was something precious, something fragile, something he had been looking for his whole life.
Lyra looked away.
She looked at the window. At the street below. At the empty sidewalk where a man with an easy smile and messy hair had walked away, still laughing, still talking, still so loud that she could still hear him even when he was gone.
She didn't want him.
She didn't want anyone.
But her fingers moved at her sides, tracing the shape of her own last name in the air.
Kulkarni.
He would never find it. She had made sure of that years ago. She had erased herself so completely that even she sometimes forgot who she was supposed to be.
But he had said he would find it. He had said it like it was a promise. Like it was a challenge. Like he had all the time in the world.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
---
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN