Page 21 of Kill, Sleep, Repeat: Vol II

“Wait, afterparty at—?” She doesn’t finish, but her expression changes. Something clicks, and I realize where this is going before she even says it.

“I’ve been invited to one of those before,” she says casually. “It’s actually a great time. Should be fun.”

Her excitement is palpable, and for a moment, I envy how easily she fits into her world. She’s a college girl, social, genuine. Not like me. I’m not going to have fun. I’m going to get the photos, get in, get the intel,and get out.

That’s the plan. But the moment she mentions it, I can feel an opportunity slide into place.

“Who’s going?” I ask, keeping my voice casual, though my mind is already calculating. “To the afterparty, I mean? Anyone I might know?” If she’s been there before, she knows people. She’s been in those circles. She can be the key to getting the access I need. I just have to use that.

Lily doesn’t pick up on my shift in tone, though. She’s all smiles, all chatter. “Oh, you know. A few people from the scene. Models, influencers, the usual.”

I keep my expression neutral.Perfect.

She’s excited. I’m calculating. As usual.

“You wanna tag along?” I ask, feeling the cold calculation slip into my tone.

She doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes! I’ll help you pick out something to wear,” she gestures at my clothes. “For sure—you can’t wear that. You’ve gotta stand out.”

I force a smile. “Right.”

She’s already at her closet, pulling things out—tight dresses, heels, stuff I don’t usually wear. I grab one that looks halfway bearable, black, fitted, a little lower cut than I’d like, but it’ll work. Lily’s bouncing around me, her energy like static, making my head spin. I hate the way it pulls at me, but I don’t let it show.

“I think this one’s it,” she says, pushing it at me. It fits like a second skin, and I feel naked the second I slip it on. Too much, too little, all wrong.

“You good?” Lily calls from across the room, already throwing on her own outfit. “You look—” She pauses when I step out of the bathroom, one eyebrow raised. “Okay, maybe that’s too much, but it’ll definitely get us in.”

We leave the dorm together. I’m wearing the too-much dress, my stomach a tight ball of nerves and something else Ican’t name. Lily, on the other hand, is glowing. She’s stepping into the night like it’s just another weekend, her life still intact, still free of complications.

And I wonder if I’ll ever be able to live like that again.

18

CHARLOTTE

I’ve been in New York for a few days now, and the city feels like a joke. People bustle around, every street corner brimming with energy, but none of it matters. The chaos doesn’t seep in; it doesn’t touch me. It’s almost like I’m watching from a distance, a spectator in a world that doesn’t belong to me. Sophie’s on my mind more than I care to admit, but even that feels like another distraction. Another fucking thing to deal with.

I don’t have time for worry, not that I’d ever call it that. The word is weak, and I’m not weak. But there’s something gnawing at me, an itch I can’t scratch. Maybe it’s the odd text I got last week, and then the identical one I received this morning.

It’s time to tell the girls.

At first I thought maybe it was Carlo. Or the agency. It’s something they do from time to time—test your mental fortitude. See if you might be slipping. But I’m not. I won’t.

And besides, I’m not so sure it was Carlo or the agency. I get the feeling it might be someone else entirely. Someone who knows too much.

But I can’t think about that now. It’s not going to changeanything. I have other needs that need tending to. I have to clear my mind.

The city is full of noise, but it’s hollow. No matter how many people I pass, no matter how many bodies brush against mine, it feels empty. Like I’m still running on autopilot—doing the same thing over and over. A job here, a target there. It’s all the same. Just moving from one task to the next.

So, I decide to do what I do best: shut it all off.

I pull up the dating app. No use pretending I’m searching for anything substantial. I’m not looking for a connection—I don’t believe in that nonsense anymore. But sex? Sure, that’s something I can work with. Something quick. Something without strings. A means to an end. The idea of being touched without a second thought feels strangely soothing. A distraction. It’s been too long since I’ve felt that kind of heat between my legs.

I swipe through the profiles with mechanical precision, my eyes skimming past the typical bullshit. I’m not looking for a date, just a body. They all want something from me, something I can’t give, but that’s fine. I’m not giving anything away either. I pick one. Young-ish. Decent body, nothing special. He’s the right type—cocky, eager, and too dumb to know he’s dealing with someone who doesn’t give a shit about his personality. He looks like someone I can use and dispose. He looks like someone who will make it easy.

I set up the meeting quickly, the text exchanged with the kind of brevity that cuts through everything. He doesn’t need to know anything about me. All he needs to know is that he’s here for one reason—and I’m not about to waste time explaining it to him.

I’m in the hotel room first. Stylish, sleek, the sort of place that doesn’t scream for attention but still says plenty. Just the way I like it. My heels click sharply against the floor as I wait. Ofcourse, he’s late.

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