Page 196 of Irreversible

“Yeah.” Grabbing my jeans from the back of the chair, I drop the towel and step into them, pulling them over my hips.

“And you—” She stalls at the foot of the bed. “You had a personal connection to one of the victims.”

I freeze in my tracks.

“Sara…” Her voice softens with the epiphany. “You were looking for Sara.”

I swallow. “You knew all this.” All I can do is stare at the faded wallpaper ahead. It’s been a year, and I’d all but buried those conversations beneath the ashes of that godforsaken lab. But she’s been living with bits and pieces of me, limited to the carefully filtered truths I’d felt were safe to reveal. And that character sketch I built is littered with holes.

“You were always so evasive. You said youinvestigated thingsbut never once told me what you actually did for a living.”

Since the day I came to her in that club and she unraveled my identity one encounter at a time, the tension between us has been building toward an inevitable, all-consuming detonation. There’s been no time to look backward, no inclination to siftthrough the rubble. To dig up those fragments and glue them together.

I’d all but forgotten a piece was still missing.

Slowly, I turn toward her.

“You—” She takes a step back. “You were…undercover?”

“I didn’t get myself tossed in that hellhole on purpose, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But you’re a detective.” She nods to herself, slowly, deliberately, as it all fits together. “That’s how you know Tanner. You work with him.”

“Not anymore.” I exhale. “Everly?—”

She stops me with a raised finger. “Don’t. This isn’t something you can just blow off.” Pinching the space between her brows, she squeezes her eyes shut, letting the revelation wash over her. When she opens them again, they’re rimmed with unshed tears. “Youknewme.”

I allow the confirmation to show on my face. I’m not going to disrespect her by trying to hide it. Not anymore. My palms slicken with sweat, and I rub them over the denim molded to my thighs. There’s nothing left to do but let the storm blow through.

The tears loosen, spilling down her cheeks. “The moment I gave you my name, you knew exactly who I was. My career, my personal life, what I looked like. That whole time you were this faceless person, whileyouhad a window to everything about me.”

Fuck.What can I say to that? It’s not like I was an expert on the life of Everly Cross when I got locked up in that room, but I can’t deny that I knew her. So, I swallow the excuses and nod.

She lets out a soft huff. “Did you investigate my kidnapping?”

“No. Everly, I?—”

Her eyebrow rises like a judgement.

“Not like you’re thinking.” I slow down and proceed carefully. “A different precinct oversaw the investigation. I wasn’t on your case, but I did know who you were. My gut told me the disappearances—yours, Sara’s, the others—were connected.” Lowering to sit at the foot of the bed, I watch her pace in front of me, tense and unpredictable. “I followed that instinct. Did my research. Dug wherever I could find a common thread. Ultimately, all I had were theories. I got shut down, but I pushed back. Then I kept pushing until I went a step too far and got myself kicked off the force.”

Her hands move to her face, pressing against her temples as the details sink in further. “But you—you interviewed myhusband.”

“I—”

“No.” Her voice is hard as granite, cold as frost. “Don’t even bother denying it. He told me he knew you.”

“I wasn’t going to deny it…not exactly.” Our meeting had been so brief, I didn’t expect him to remember.

“What does that mean?”

“I went to the precinct where he was called in for a follow-up interview months after you disappeared. He was leaving the building when I pulled him aside. I had a few questions, needed to clarify some things. That was it.”

A shadow passes over her, softening the stone but leaving heartbreak in its place. “But why did you let me think he was dead?”

“Sit with me.” I reach out a hand, afraid she’ll crumble to pieces right where she stands. “Please.”

She flinches back. “Tell me, Isaac.”

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