I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when that loss finally started to transform, even just a little. But I know the reason why. Ever since Nolan came to Cape Carnage, I’ve wanted more than to just survive in the shadows. I want to bloom in them. Even if Nolan is gone. Even if his promise was just a brittle illusion, maybe that’s all I really needed. A little bit of its glow, like a lantern in the night.

With a swipe of my knuckles beneath my damp lashes, I rise. Nolan’s promise might have been a fragile vow. But mine isn’t. I will not let Arthur down.

I head toward the corpse that’s cooling on the ground. It’s already been nearly two hours since Arthur killed him, so I probably won’t have too much longer before his limbs start to stiffen. My frown deepens as I look to the car. I don’t have the equipment to make this easier. I hang my head and let out a deep sigh, then remove the man’s shoes.

“I realize this is very undignified,” I say, checking the pockets of his pants, all of which are empty. Next I unfasten his belt and undo his button and zipper. “But I don’t have many options here. And you probably did hit Arthur, after all, so let’s just say you deserve it.”

I start tugging his trousers over his hips and down his legs, yanking them off. Once they’re free, I twist the pant legs to create a makeshift rope that I knot around his ankles. Grabbing the free end, I start dragging him toward the waiting car. “This is not really how either of us intended to spend our night,” I whisper between grunts and tugs. “I thought I’d maybe have a glass of wine and some super-hot sex with my serial killer almost-boyfriend. Not getting ghosted and cleaning up bodies. You tourists really do have to ruin everything.”

I keep tugging, a mist of sweat coating my skin, breaths sawing from my lungs with the exertion of dragging a limp-bodied man across uneven ground. Once I’ve got him through the gate, I give him a shove to roll him down the little slope. He lurches to a halt in the shallow ditch, and then I’m dragging him once more until I’m at the rear driver’s-side door of the sedan. When I’ve got his feet and lower legs positioned in the footwell, I get into the car and start tugging him inside.

“You could make things a little easier on me,” I tell him, grabbing his floppy arms to pull his torso upright. “Stiffen up a bit already.”

With a little rearranging and more than one attempt, I manage to embrace his torso and heave him across the footwells of the rear seats. I take a minute to let my heart rate settle, and then I stride to the trunk to grab a pair of Arthur’s beloved Burberry wool blankets to spread over the body.

As soon as I’m done, we head back to the Capeside Inn.

I know I should be focused on more important things, like perhaps ensuring Arthur doesn’t go on more murdery escapades. Or maybe getting rid of this unknown tourist’s body should be a priority. But I can’t help it. Part of me knows the logical explanation is that Nolan left now that he has what he wants from me. But another part of me just can’t believe it. The words he said the other night didn’t feel like counterfeit promises made in the heat of the moment. I refuse to believe that rational voice in my head. Not until I see it with my own eyes.

I roll to a stop close to the entrance of the Capeside Inn parking lot, but I don’t go in. I park on the street instead, in the shadows of the unlit section of the road. With a final check to ensure the body is covered behind me, I get out of the car and walk toward the hotel.

Nolan’s car is still missing from its spot. Most of the other spaces are full. When I enter the lobby, there’s no one there, not even Irene. I pause only long enough to confirm she’s not snoring in her darkened room, and then I keep going, headed for the corridor that leads to Nolan’s room.

I listen at the door. Nothing comes from the other side. I give it three light knocks on the wood. No one comes to answer. Then I slide my key into the lock and step inside.

My rational mind told me this is what I would find. But my heart hurts just the same.

There’s no bottle of pills on the nightstand. No luggage on the rack. No food in the fridge. When I head to the wardrobe, no clothes are hanging inside. I don’t check anything after that. I just sit on the edge of the bed, feeling like something has been torn from the center of my chest. Maybe it shouldn’t hurt so much. After all, how well do I really know Nolan Rhodes? He came here to destroy me. He just found another way to drive a knife home, that’s all.

But it does hurt. It aches. I feel raw, like all my bloody wounds are exposed. Aside from Arthur, he was the only person I showed my true self to. He saw the very worst in me. And I thought he accepted me the way I am, but at the first opportunity, he left.

Society never accepts every facet of a woman’s true nature— especially their grief and trauma and darkness—though it feasts on those things until it consumes them, leaving only a polished facade behind. The world wants a perfect victim. Not the creature a woman like me might choose to become to survive. The best we can hope for is to find another soul who can stand in our path with open arms to embrace us.

I thought I’d found that in Nolan. He didn’t even need my tragic backstory. He didn’t turn away like I know everyone else would. He accepted the woman I chose to be the day I walked away from the ashes of my former life.

Or so I thought.

I run my finger beneath my lashes, catching tears that only reappear the moment they’re wiped away. It takes a long moment to subdue the loneliness that threatens to choke up my throat. But in time, I do. And I will. I’ve survived worse, and I’ll survive this too.

I rise. Head to the door. With a check through the peephole, I exit the room and head down the corridor.

When I arrive at the lobby, I hesitate. Something compels me to approach the registration desk. Ducking under the hinged countertop, I make my way to Irene’s guest ledger. I flip the pages until I find Nolan’s entry, running a finger across the line of his details. His dates of planned stay. His arrival time. According to the ledger, he hasn’t checked out.

I frown at the book, trying to work out the information, comparing Nolan’s details to the entries for other guests who have come and gone. Nothing in the book indicates that he’s left, even though his room is as neat as a pin. It looked ready for the next guest, like he’d never stayed in it at all. Another ghost of Cape Carnage that’s blown away in a gale that’s swept across the wrecks hiding beneath the waves.

Questions are rolling through my mind when a voice approaches from upstairs. Footsteps pound down the staircase. Someone is in a rush. I duck behind the counter, making myself small in the shadows.

“… you sure about this?” an unfamiliar voice asks. There’s a delay, as though he’s speaking on the phone. “What if Rhodes doesn’t talk?”

My blood freezes. I peek around the space beneath the hinged countertop, where it’s unlikely I’ll be spotted. I see a man traveling quickly down the last few steps. There’s a hint of fear in his eyes. But there’s determination too. He has a bag in one hand, a logo of two P’s in a circle embroidered on one side.

My quiet gasp is lost beneath his heavy footfalls as I take my wallet from my pocket and pull out the business card I slid inside. The same logo is embossed next to Sam Porter’s name. Porter Productions, the card says.

The alarm that chilled my blood only moments ago transforms. I’m suddenly burning. I’m an incendiary, ready to destroy everyone in my path. Starting with this man, who must be Sam’s drone operator.

“This sounds risky. You sure it’s worth it?” He travels past the front desk, toward the door. “What about the location? The distillery is echoey as shit.”