Davies looked exhausted.
His eyes moved from Adeline to the half-empty glasses on the table.
Then to Jarvis.
"What happened?"
Jarvis stepped between him and Adeline.
"Where have you been?"
"That's not important."
"It is to me."
Davies ignored him.
He looked at Adeline.
"Are you okay?"
She laughed softly.
"No."
The answer seemed to break something in him.
Davies walked toward her.
Jarvis didn't move.
"She needs rest," Jarvis said.
"I know."
"Then take her home."
Davies looked at him.
"Why didn't you?"
Jarvis's eyes hardened.
"I was trying."
Davies didn't understand the weight behind the words.
Not yet.
Adeline suddenly stood.
The room spun.
Davies caught her before she fell.
She looked up at him.
For the first time in weeks, he was actually standing in front of her.
Not hiding.
Not sending Jarvis.
Not speaking through a phone.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Why did you come?"
Davies held her carefully.
"Because you needed me."
She shook her head.
"You always come too late."
He closed his eyes.
"I know."
"You said you loved me."
His expression changed.
Jarvis looked away.
Davies swallowed.
"I meant it."
Adeline's tears finally fell.
"Then why were you hiding?"
Davies had no answer.
He simply pulled her into his arms.
She resisted for a second.
Then gave in.
Her face pressed against his chest.
"I was scared," she whispered.
"I know."
"I thought someone was following me."
"I know."
"I thought I was going to die."
Davies's arms tightened around her.
"I'm here."
"You're never here."
The words hurt.
"I know."
She cried harder.
Davies stroked her hair gently.
"I should have been."
Jarvis watched them silently.
Something inside him broke.
He had spent so long protecting her.
Watching her.
Standing beside her.
And yet when she finally needed comfort, it was Davies she reached for.
Jarvis stepped toward the door.
Davies looked at him.
"Jarvis."
He stopped.
Neither man spoke.
Then Jarvis said quietly,
"Take care of her."
Davies nodded.
Jarvis left.
The door closed behind him.
Outside, Jarvis stood beneath the streetlamp.
He looked up at the dark sky.
He had almost crossed a line.
He knew that.
And perhaps the worst part was that some part of him still wanted to.
He loved her.
But loving her did not mean he was entitled to her.
He pulled out his phone.
A message was waiting.
Unknown number.
Jarvis stared at it.
You almost kissed her.
His blood ran cold.
He looked around the street.
Nobody.
Another message appeared.
How disappointing.
Jarvis's expression hardened.
He typed:
Who are you?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
No answer came.
Jarvis looked back at the bar.
The light from the window reflected across his face.
Someone had been watching.
And whoever it was knew far too much.
Inside, Davies helped Adeline sit down.
She was exhausted.
Her head rested against his shoulder.
"I don't understand anything anymore," she whispered.
"You don't have to."
"But everyone keeps lying."
Davies went still.
"Who?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
He looked at her.
"What happened last night?"
Adeline closed her eyes.
"I don't know."
"Tell me what you remember."
"The lights went out."
"And?"
"Someone was there."
"Did you see them?"
"No."
Davies's face tightened.
"What else?"
"Nothing."
He nodded slowly.
He didn't push her.
Not tonight.
She was too frightened.
Too vulnerable.
Instead, he pulled the blanket around her.
"You need sleep."
"Will you stay?"
The question caught him off guard.
"Yes."
"Promise?"
Davies looked at her.
"I promise."
Adeline slowly closed her eyes.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
Davies remained beside her.
He watched her breathing.
Then like something pushed him, he leaned in and kissed her
But almost immediately after he had kissed her, his expression changed.
He looked toward the window.
Something about the situation didn't feel right.
The killer wasn't simply attacking people anymore.
Someone was watching them.
Following their movements.
Learning their weaknesses.
And Davies suddenly realized something that frightened him.
The killer might know about Jarvis.
He might know about Adeline.
He might even know about him.
But Davies still didn't know who the killer was.
And somewhere in North Yorkshire, the murderer was already planning his next move.
A photograph lay on a desk in a dark room.
Jarvis.
Davies.
Adeline.
Malcolm.
The killer studied them one by one, caressing Malcom's cheeks in the photograph
"you look better"
Then slowly turned over another photograph.
One of the five remaining friends.
A smile appeared on his face.
"One more."
He reached for his phone.
And sent a message.
This time, it wasn't to Davies.
It was to someone who had no idea they were already being watched.
"YOUR TURN"