Stephanie POV

The city looked different from the car window at night — clean, indifferent, like it never remembered the things it had watched. George drove without music, his jaw tight, hands steady on the wheel. I watched him in the rearview, the dark cut of his profile, the easy cruelty in his eyes when he thought no one was watching. He was calm. That calm made me dangerous.

“Did you see the way she did that?” I said, more to the glass than to him.

George snorted. “You mean the ...