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The motel felt smaller in the daylight. Thin curtains did nothing to keep the sun from pressing in, and the peeling wallpaper seemed to close tighter around them. They'd barely left the room since last night. Too risky. Too exposed. Every time a car slowed outside, Hayamei's heart jumped into her throat. Every knock at the door—real or imagined—had her fingers twitching toward the knife she kept under her pillow.
It was suffocating.
But suffocation was safer than being seen.
Ghost hadn't spoken much all morning. He sat in the corner chair, hood up, shadow over his face. He watched. Always watched. His eyes shifted with every creak in the walls, every groan of pipes in the ceiling. His silence wasn't comfort—it was its own kind of noise, one that pressed on Hayamei until she wanted to scream just to break it.
Aiyana wasn't much better. She was perched on the edge of the dresser, arms folded, legs crossed, tapping her nails against her elbow like she had all the time in the world. She studied Ghost more than the door, her gaze sharp, cutting, dissecting.
Hayamei sat on the bed between them, caught in the middle as if the mattress itself was a no man's land.
Finally, Aiyana spoke.
"You still haven't told her."
Her voice cut through the silence like a blade.
Ghost's eyes flicked to her but he didn't move otherwise. "Told her what?"
"Don't play dumb with me," Aiyana said, her tone cool but edged. "Hayamei deserves to know exactly what you were sent for. Not just to watch her. Not just to report back. The other part."
Hayamei's stomach tightened. She looked at Ghost. His jaw flexed but he didn't answer right away. That silence—that refusal—was louder than anything he could have said.
She swallowed, her throat dry. "What is she talking about?"
Ghost finally looked at her. His eyes weren't empty—they never were—but they carried weight, the kind that crushed. "It doesn't matter anymore."
Her chest burned. "Don't you dare tell me it doesn't matter."
"It matters less than what's ahead," he said quietly, firmly.
But Aiyana wasn't letting it go. "He was sent to kill you if you ever ran. If you ever became more than a pawn. That was his real job, Hayamei. Not watching. Not reporting. Termination."
The word slammed into her.
Hayamei's lips parted but no sound came out at first. Her skin prickled cold. She forced herself to breathe. To find words. "Is that true?"
Ghost didn't move. Didn't flinch. But he didn't deny it either.
