(Kira’s POV)
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I sat down on a plush armchair in the living room, the fabric warm beneath , like it had soaked in the lives of those who lived here. I placed my hands on my knees, but they wouldn’t stop fidgeting. My fingers twisted together. Untwisted. Rested. Twitched again.
The photos were watching . I could feel their gaze.
And the silence returned—deep, weighty, crawling under my skin. It wasn’t a comfortable silence. It was the kind that lingers in old houses after sothing major had happened. Or before sothing worse does.
I lowered the grocery bags carefully to the polished wooden floor, propping them up with the edge of my boot as if keeping them upright might sohow delay the inevitable collapse of this whole strange, surreal mont. The weight of what I was doing—not just delivering groceries, but pretending, lying, dodging—settled heavily in my chest.
The interior of Maddie’s ho was modest but with a certain understated elegance. Clean lines. Muted tones. No clutter. Everything had its place, and it felt like every item had a story behind it—chosen not just for function, but for mory. It wasn’t grand, but it breathed comfort. Style without arrogance. Lena’s voice echoed in my mory, the way she’d bead with pride when she told about it.
"She worked her whole life to give everything. Buying this house for her was the first ti I felt like I’d finally given sothing back," she’d said. "It was the best feeling in the world, but it was only a fraction compared to everything she did for ."
And now here I was—standing in that very house, not as Lena’s partner, but as a stranger with a bag of groceries and a fabricated errand. The irony was as sharp as glass in my throat.
I barely had ti to sift through the guilt before Maddie reappeared from the kitchen, balancing a tray with two delicate glasses and a small ceramic bowl of sugar. Her movents were practiced, careful. She handed a cup and I took it with both hands, trying to steady myself through the ritual of it all.
The tea was cool, sweetened just enough to be refreshing, but my stomach clenched with every sip. It wasn’t the taste—it was the gnawing anxiety that refused to loosen its grip. This wasn’t how I had ever imagined eting my girlfriend’s mother. Not as a liar. Not with this weight between us.
"So," Maddie said after a pause, her tone casual but her gaze unwavering, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"
I set the cup down gently onto the tray, its soft clink sounding far louder than it should have in the quiet room.
"Well," I started, forcing a neutral smile, "like I said earlier... Lena sent . She knew I’d be nearby, and asked if I could swing by with so things."
"All that for ?" she asked, tilting her head slightly toward the bags. There was a softness to her voice, but sothing about the angle of her posture told she was still assessing —like she hadn’t quite decided what kind of visitor I was.
"Yes," I replied. "It’s all in there. I, uh... I actually have to get going now. Work’s expecting back soon."
She smiled, polite but distant. "Of course. Thank you. That was very thoughtful of her. Of you."
As she moved to pick up the bags, I stood quickly. I couldn’t stay another minute. I could feel my control slipping, like sweat off the back of my neck. Every second here felt like another chance for to blurt out the truth, or worse—another crack in the lie that would expose it all.
But before I could make a swift exit, Maddie straightened up again and said, "Let walk you out."
It wasn’t a question. And sothing about the insistence in her voice made my skin crawl—not because she ant harm, but because kindness always felt sharper when you didn’t feel like you deserved it.
We stepped outside together, and the sun hit like a wall. The heat clung to my skin imdiately, suffocating after the cool shadows of her living room. I was already halfway down the porch steps when I felt her hand on my arm.
Then, without warning, she pulled into a hug.
I froze—caught between surprise and confusion, my arms hovering awkwardly before returning the embrace with half-hearted politeness.
"Uhm..." I muttered, completely thrown off. "What... what was that for?"
She pulled back slightly and smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"I didn’t know I’d have a visitor today," she said gently. "And... it’s just nice. Having soone co by. You brought more than groceries—you brought company."
My throat tightened again. I nodded, too stunned to speak.
Then it happened.
A sudden roar of an engine ripped through the quiet afternoon. Tires screeched—rubber scraping violently against asphalt. I turned instinctively, eyes drawn to the street just beyond Maddie’s carefully pruned hedges.
A silver car ca tearing out of her cul-de-sac, its tires fishtailing slightly as it swerved out of control, almost hitting the curb before regaining speed.
I barely had ti to register the make or model before another vehicle ca flying in hot pursuit.
Kraven.
His unmistakable black sedan—low, sleek, a beast on wheels—shot forward like a predator locked onto prey.
My blood turned to ice.
Maddie turned too, squinting at the commotion, but to her it was probably just a reckless joyride. She couldn’t have known what that chase ant. What it really ant.
My heart pounded so loudly I thought it might drown out the sound of the engines.
Kraven was chasing Maven. Maven was here all along, as suspected. There was no way I was going to let him slip from my grasp.
And it was happening right here. Right in front of Maddie’s house. On the sa street where I had just stood sipping sweet tea, like this was so innocent suburban visit.
The timing was too perfect. Too cruel.
I was going to catch Maven, and put an end to all this madness!
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