Chapter 23
Katherine
Katherine shut the door behind her and exhaled heavily.
The tension in her body refused to dissipate, her muscles still wired tight, her mind stubbornly fixed on that storage room confrontation. On Ben's face. On the way his eyes had dropped to her lips for that split second before he'd pulled back.
She dropped her bag unceremoniously by the door and scrubbed a hand through her hair, disrupting the careful styling she'd maintained all day.
Her skin buzzed with leftover adrenaline, and her mouth—God, her mouth still felt like it had almost been kissed.
Like the ghost of something that never happened was still lingering there.
"Sooo. How was work?"
Lisa's voice cut through her thoughts. Her sister was sprawled across their couch, one leg dangling over the armrest, textbook abandoned on her stomach. The knowing smirk on her face was dangerous—too perceptive for someone her age.
Kath groaned. Not just a normal groan, but a full-body, dramatic, completely miserable sound that came from somewhere deep in her soul.
"Fucking awful," she declared, crossing the room and flopping face-first onto the couch beside her sister.
The movement jostled Lisa, who shifted to make room without complaint. Kath lay there like a soldier returning from battle, one arm dangling toward the floor. “I got into a screaming match with my boss.”
Lisa sat up straighter, tucking her legs beneath her.
Her eyes widened with interest.
"Wait. The scary one?" she asked, leaning closer.
Kath didn't bother lifting her face from where it was half-buried in her arm. "Yes," she confirmed, voice muffled against the fabric of her sleeve. "The scary one."
"Sooo… the scary one’s the hot one? Or is that someone else?" Lisa asked, her voice infuriatingly casual for a question laced with that much implication.
Kath whined again. This was a sound of pure, existential suffering. She pressed her face deeper into the couch cushion, as if she could somehow escape this conversation by suffocating herself in polyester.
"Oh my god, Lisa," she mumbled, the words barely audible.
Lisa poked her sister in the ribs like the menace she was, grinning when Kath flinched away from the contact.
"You did say he was hot," Lisa pressed, leaning closer.
"I'm just checking if that's still the vibe."
Kath rolled over just enough to fix her sister with a flat stare. "I take it back. He's awful."
"Mmhmm," Lisa hummed, not even trying to hide her skepticism.
"Don't mmhmm me," Kath warned, narrowing her eyes.
Lisa just smirked. The expression was sweet and deadly all at once—the look of a younger sister who knew exactly which buttons to push and took unholy delight in doing so.
"If he makes you that mad..." Lisa said, her voice taking on a teasing, sing-song quality, "it means you care."
The accusation had barely settled before Kath grabbed the nearest throw pillow and launched it at her sister.
“Of course I care what he says,” she snapped.
“He’s my boss.”
The pillow caught Lisa square on the shoulder before tumbling to the floor. She yelped, then burst out laughing—unapologetic and unbothered.
Despite herself, Kath felt her lips twitch, the smallest smile breaking through. The knot of tension that had been strangling her chest since the storage room finally loosened, just a little. The room felt warmer. Lighter.
Lisa grinned at her from the couch, smug but harmless.
“Still counts,” she muttered.
The evening softened around them. Lisa had shifted her textbooks aside, replacing them with her laptop, its blue glow illuminating her face in the dimly lit living room. Some cooking show played on the TV, volume turned low enough that it became pleasant background noise rather than a distraction.
Katherine felt herself finally unwinding, the day's tension gradually releasing its grip on her shoulders. She curled deeper into the couch cushions, tucking her feet beneath her.
"I checked out a few more colleges today," Lisa said suddenly, excitement brightening her voice as she angled the laptop screen toward Kath.
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. From workplace drama to something that actually mattered—Lisa's future.
Kath leaned closer, all thoughts of Sinclair temporarily forgotten as she focused on the webpage Lisa had pulled up.
"This one has an amazing program," Lisa continued, scrolling through images of sprawling green campuses and modern buildings. "And the dorms look decent—not like those horror stories you hear about. Plus, they have this professor who's basically a legend."
Kath watched her sister's face as she talked, the genuine enthusiasm lighting up her features. This was what mattered. This was real.
"You're going to do amazing, Lis," Kath said softly, meaning every word.
Lisa bumped her shoulder playfully. "Yeah, I hope so."
She glanced at the time display in the corner of her screen, her expression shifting to confusion. "Wait, aren't you supposed to be meeting up with Tammy?"
Kath's heart slammed against her ribs. Shit. She'd completely forgotten about the cover story she'd given earlier in the week.
"Yeah, I should get going soon," replied, her voice carefully even, not a hint of panic showing through.
Lisa just nodded, already turning back to her laptop, scrolling through another university's webpage. The complete trust in that simple gesture made her stomach twist with guilt.
Kath stood, grabbing her bag from where she'd dropped it by the couch. She moved with deliberate casualness, checking her phone as if confirming the time of her fictional meetup.
Lisa was already absorbed in her research again, completely unaware of the lie.
And Katherine felt the weight of it all—betraying her sister, who deserved nothing but honesty. And betraying herself, for going anywhere near Sinclair again.
The guilt trailed her all the way to Crimson Bloom.
Now, in front of the mirror in the dressing room, she sat at her vanity, fingers moving mechanically as she adjusted her mask. The golden trim caught the low light, throwing shifting reflections across her face that she barely registered.
The mask settled against her skin, familiar and foreign all at once. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself for the night ahead.
"Blondieee."
The sing-song voice sliced through her concentration.
Kath didn't flinch, didn't turn immediately. She forced her shoulders to remain relaxed, her breathing even. Aria had a talent for smelling weakness.
She glanced in the mirror, catching Aria's reflection.
The woman leaned against the doorframe, all curves and sharp edges, wrapped in a skin-tight dress that left little to imagination. Her smile was glossy and venomous, her eyes calculating as she held up a pristine white envelope between two perfectly manicured fingers.
"Looks like you've got a secret admirer," Aria purred, her tone suggesting she knew exactly who it was from.
Kath's pulse ticked upward. She turned slowly, her movements measured and controlled as she crossed the room. She plucked the envelope from Aria's fingers with sharp efficiency, not giving her the satisfaction of hesitation.
"Should I be jealous?" Aria asked, her smile soft but her eyes mean.
Katherine met her gaze, cool and unreadable. “Hard to say,” said flatly. “Last time you handed me something, it nearly got me pinned to the ground.”
Aria’s smile faltered, just for a second.
Then she raised her hands in surrender, her tone softening.“Chill, okay? It’s not a setup. Some guy gave it to me—said it was for Blondie. Looked kind of serious.
”She hesitated, then took a small step back, eyes flicking away.“If you don’t want it… toss it. What do I care?”
The corner of Aria’s mouth twitched again, something between amusement and indifference.
And then she turned and walked away.
Kath waited until Aria's footsteps faded, until she was certain she was alone. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she looked down at the envelope in her hands.
It was plain. Unmarked. Except for a small black heart drawn in the corner.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers moved of their own accord, tearing at the sealed edge—fast, almost desperate.
What she saw inside made her world stop spinning.
She couldn't fucking breathe.
Kath stumbled into the bathroom, legs nearly giving out beneath her.
Hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white with the force of her hold.
The cold porcelain was the only thing anchoring her to reality as lungs refused to expand, each breath shallow and useless.
Fingers had gone numb, tingling with the rush of adrenaline flooding her system.
Pulse thundered like a war drum in her throat.
She looked down at the photo again, spread open across the edge of the sink where she must’ve dropped it without thinking.
Lisa.
Her sister sat at a café, headphones in, smiling at something on her laptop screen. Oblivious. Unaware that someone was watching. Photographing.
One line was written beneath the image in neat, deliberate handwriting:
"You should be more careful about the people you care about. ?"
Kath's stomach turned violently. Vision blurred, the edges of the room going dark as panic clawed its way up her throat.
This wasn't just about her anymore. This was Lisa. Baby sister. The one person she'd sworn to protect above all else.
She fumbled for her phone, fingers shaking so badly she could barely unlock the screen. Pressed Lisa's contact, nearly dropping the device while raising it to her ear.
Lisa picked up on the third ring, voice bright. Normal. Safe.
"Kath? What's up?"
Kath's voice came out paper-thin, forced into a steadiness she didn’t feel. "Hey. Just... make sure the doors are locked, okay?"
There was a pause on the other end. Concern crept into Lisa's voice. "Why?"
Kath forced a laugh that felt like broken glass in her throat. "No reason. Break-ins. Nothing serious."
She was lying through her teeth, the words bitter on her tongue. But she'd say anything, do anything, to protect the one person she couldn’t lose.
"I'm fine," Lisa assured. "Everything's locked. I'll double-check."
Kath nodded, though Lisa couldn't see. She remained silent, still shaking.
"Just... be safe," she managed, voice barely audible.
"Always," Lisa promised.
Kath set the phone down like it was made of glass. Gripped the sink again, trying to force air into her lungs, trying to think through the fog of terror.
But the shaking wouldn't stop.
Because now it was real. Someone was watching.
And they knew exactly how to hurt her.
Kath turned on the faucet, letting the water run cold before placing her wrists beneath the stream.
The shock of it sent a jolt through her system, grounding her in the physical sensation as she tried to calm her racing heart.
Not her face—she couldn't ruin the makeup. Not when she still had to go out there.
Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, pale and fractured under the harsh bathroom lights. Her pupils were wide with fear, making her eyes look darker than usual behind the mask.
You're okay. Lisa's okay, she told herself, trying to believe it.
But her breath wouldn't settle. Her hands wouldn't still.
They trembled even as she pulled them from the water, droplets scattering across the porcelain sink.
If Crawford wanted to act, he wouldn't have left a fucking letter first.
It was logic. It was fact. It was something to cling to in the swirling chaos of her thoughts. Crawford was calculating, not impulsive. This was a chess move, not a killing blow.
She gripped the edge of the sink hard, her knuckles turning white with the pressure.
Tonight, we're still safe. Tonight, nothing is going to happen, she repeated to herself, firmer this time, willing the words to be true.
She repeated it like a mantra, forcing each syllable through her mind as though repetition could make it reality.
It's just a warning.
But her pulse raced like it was already too late, like danger was already at her door.
A knock startled her, followed by Ian's voice from the other side—calm, grounding in its familiarity.
"Blondie. You're up."
Kath inhaled sharply. One breath. Then another. She could do this. She had to.
She wiped her hands on a paper towel, fixed the edge of her mask where it had begun to slip, and straightened her shoulders.
And stepped out.
Because the show didn't stop. Even when your world was about to crack.
The second the lights hit her, Kath moved. Her body slipped into the familiar rhythm, hips swaying with practiced precision, arms flowing through the air like silk caught in a breeze.
Every movement was flawless, timed perfectly to the pulsing bass that vibrated through the floor beneath her feet.
But it wasn't real.
Her body was there, dancing across the stage, but her mind remained trapped in that bathroom, staring at the photograph. Lisa's face, unaware and vulnerable, haunted her with each step. The words beneath the image echoed in time with the music.
"You should be more careful about the people you care about."
Her pulse raced too fast, her focus fractured into jagged pieces.
She moved through her routine like a ghost, present but not present, adrift in a sea of faces that blurred into meaningless shapes.
The familiar sanctuary of the stage had become just another place where she was utterly alone, cracking beneath the surface while maintaining the illusion of control.
And then—she felt him.
Before she even saw him. A presence that cut through her panic like a blade.
Her gaze shifted, cutting through the dim light to the shadows at the back of the room. And there he was. Mr. S. His sharp suit absorbed the darkness around him, his posture still as stone.
He watched her with that unwavering focus, like she was the only thing that existed in the entire room.
And something clicked.
Tonight, we're still safe. It's just a warning.
She’d already told herself that. Whispered it in the mirror, clung to it like a shield. But it hadn’t settled—hadn’t felt real.
Not until now.
Not until she saw him.
Her breath evened—just a little. Her focus sharpened, pulling her back into her body. Each movement became deliberate again, purposeful. She wasn't dancing for the crowd anymore. Not for the paycheck. For him.
She danced for the man who didn't know she was falling apart.
And somehow, it saved her.
Not completely. But enough.
By the end of her set, her pulse had steadied. Her breath came deeper, more controlled. Her mask was back on—both literal and figurative.
She wasn't okay.
But she was still standing.
Tonight, he had been the anchor she hadn't asked for.
But she had needed him. And he had given her that, without even knowing.