The drive was quiet.


Sienna rolled the window halfway down, letting the early morning air sting her skin. Cameron had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually in his lap, fingers still stained with dirt. Neither of them spoke for miles.


It wasn’t awkward. It was the silence of people who didn’t need words—people who understood that what had just happened bound them tighter than any conversation ever could.


“What’s the worst you’ve ever done?” she asked finally, voice soft.


Cameron didn’t look at her. “That depends. Before tonight?”


She smirked. “Tonight was amateur hour.”


He laughed. “You think so?”


“You left the gloves behind.”


His jaw clenched just enough for her to notice. “You sure?”


She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out the leather gloves he’d tossed aside in the rush. “You’re lucky I liked you.”


He glanced at her. “So I’m your charity case?”


“No. Just my favorite mistake.”


That made him grin. That slow, dangerous grin again.


They pulled off on an unmarked road that cut through a thicket of woods. Cameron killed the headlights and coasted to a stop under a canopy of trees. The place was quiet—too quiet. The kind of place where screams didn’t travel far and cell phones lost their signal.


“Here?” she asked.


He nodded. “Nobody comes out here. Trust me.”


Together, they got out and retrieved the body from the trunk. It was heavier now. Dead weight always was. Sienna knelt beside the shallow hole they’d started digging hours ago and reached into her bag, pulling out a single red rose.


She placed it on the man’s chest like a gift, like a curse.


“You always do that?” Cameron asked, watching her.


She nodded. “Started a few years ago. Something about death… deserves ceremony.”


Cameron handed her the shovel. “That’s poetic. For a killer.”


“We’re all something before we’re monsters,” she said.


He studied her in the moonlight. “What were you?”


Sienna hesitated. “A girl who trusted the wrong hands.”


He didn’t push further. Just dug.


By the time they finished, the sky had begun to turn from black to gray. Sienna wiped sweat from her brow and stared at the dirt mound, her eyes glassy but dry. Cameron tossed the last shovel of earth and leaned on the handle.


They stood side by side, watching the grave like it might open back up and pull them in. It didn’t.


Instead, it swallowed their secret.


Cameron broke the silence. “I’ve done this before.”


Sienna raised an eyebrow. “I figured.”


“Not with anyone else. Just me. Always me.”


She turned toward him. “You’re not alone anymore.”


A pause. His throat moved as he swallowed.


“You want to make this a thing?” he asked. “You and me?”


She stepped closer, close enough to smell the blood beneath his nails. Her voice was a whisper. “Only if we make it ours.”


Cameron’s eyes darkened. “Then we need rules.”


She smiled. “Good. I like rules.”


They sealed it with a kiss—raw, aching, filled with the same thrill that danced beneath their skin like electricity.


Behind them, the woods stood still. Watching.


And deep in the shadows, death began to remember their names.