Every bite of the food stuck in Jade's throat. It had been that way for days. Ever since she lured that sweet girl back to her apartment. But she had to eat, so she swallowed past the pain and followed each bite with a sip of soda. Eventually, it would get better. The guilt would go away.

It had to.

Crumbling the burger wrapper, she tossed it in the garbage and swirled her cup for no other reason than to rattle the ice in it and break up the silence. In a city this noisy, it shouldn't feel so quiet, but standing between the buildings, evening shadows encroaching on her pocket of sunlight, Jade felt as if someone had turned down the volume until all she could hear was her heartbeat and rapid, anxious breathing.

She scanned the people wandering by, looking for a familiar face among the sea of strangers. So many potential subjects for paintings. Like the woman with spiked pink hair or the handsome man across the street leaning against the streetlight, arms crossed over a broad chest. His dark hair was mussed, and there was a brittle apathy in his expression she itched to draw. All the unfamiliar faces in so many colors and shapes used to be her favorite thing about the city, but now she only saw danger.

Looking at her phone, she huffed. He promised he would be there by five. It was nearly six. But she would wait all night and the next day. Sara deserved that much.

"I told you not to text me again."

She flinched as whiskey scented breath washed over her. Grabbing him by the arm, she pulled him into the alley. "You're late."

"I didn't have to come. I'm doing you a favor."

God, Jade hated how petulant he always sounded. At twenty-one, he acted more like a twelve-year-old, and now that her mind wasn't clouded by a crush, she wondered how she had ever found him attractive. Tall and lanky, he was perpetually stuck somewhere between prepubescence and manhood. Even his skin was confused. Acne poked through the patchy stubble on his chin.

"The same way you did a favor for Sara?"

Red-rimmed, watery eyes narrowed at her. "I told you to stay out of this, Jade. You shouldn't have to pay for Sara's bad choices."

Picking at the green polish on her nails, she rolled her eyes, her chest tightening. "She got into some nasty shit for sure, but you and I both know there weren't a lot of choices involved."

"Whatever—"

Jade snatched the hand he waved at her in dismissal. Desperation weighted her words. "Come on. I did what you told me to do. It's been days."

"Fuck," he snapped, looking behind him before grasping her shoulder and pushing her farther into the alley. Behind the dumpster. "Why didn't you leave it alone?"

"Leave it alone?" Jade shrieked. "You told me if I brought that girl back to the apartment, you would make sure Sara came home. That we would get her into a rehab. And in case you've forgotten, the only reason she needs rehab is because your scumbag mob friends got her hooked on all that shit."

"No one made her spread her legs for it. That was all on her."

The alley echoed with the sound of her palm against his cheek. They stared at one another in shock until he finally raised his hand and touched the rising red welt. The anger soured in her stomach, shifting to a sliver of fear as his mouth flattened into a thin line.

"I'm sorry—" she began.

"Thank you, Jade."

"F-for what?"

"For making this easier."

Jade didn't have to ask what this was. She knew before the knife slipped between her ribs. He pushed the blade in to the hilt, then twisted. It was a practiced move she wouldn't have thought him capable of just a few months ago. Back when he was just her cute coworker at the coffee shop.

Lung collapsing, she raised her hands in a futile effort to stop him from pulling the knife out. Maybe if he left it, she could get help before she bled out, but he was too fast.

Shaking his head at her, he shoved the knife in a deep pocket of his stained cargo pants. Gravel dug into her knees as she dropped. Her gaze locked on his as she searched for any sign of remorse, but it didn't exist.

"Hold on."

Someone rolled her over onto her back. A wet cough rattled in her chest, and blood filled her mouth. How had she ended up on her stomach?

"James. Get over here now. With medical supplies and Kit."

The newcomer barked orders into his phone while putting pressure on her wound. He swam in and out of focus, but there was something familiar about him. Something she couldn't place until he looked directly at her.

It was the man she saw across the street, and up close, she realized she was wrong. There was no apathy in this man. It was the opposite. Agony and despair clung to him, driving him toward a precipice, and even though she knew they'd never met, she thought some of that emotion might be for her.

"Hey," he shouted, tapping her cheek with a bloodied finger. "Eyes open."

"Tell—" Jade choked on the single word.

"Don't try to talk."

Her brows drew down in a grimace. She had to talk. There wouldn't be another chance. "Tell Sara... Sorry. Tried."

"I don't know who Sara is, but you can tell her yourself."

"My... friend." Something warm and wet splashed on her face. His tears. She didn't deserve them. Not after what she did. "And M-m-m... Cold. I'm cold."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. James, where are you?"

"M-m-millie."

He'd been looking toward the street. The moment she said Millie, he whipped his head back toward her.

"Is Millie alive?" He asked.

It was getting quiet again. The man yelled, but she couldn't understand what he said. Was he whispering? And that was strange... she couldn't feel his touch, even though he gripped her face.

"Sorry," she repeated, just before everything muted.