MARRY YOUR KILLER
Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Voice
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The morning came gray and quiet.
Jay needed air. She needed space. She needed to be somewhere that wasn't the house. The walls were closing in. The memories were everywhere. Lyra's corner. The broken steps. The boarded windows. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She needed to walk.
Keifer was in the study with Mica, tracking leads on the masked woman. Percy was in the garden with Aries, trying to rebuild what had been destroyed. Care was in the medical room, organizing supplies. Cole was with her. Alex was in Lyra's corner, standing where she used to stand, watching where she used to watch.
No one noticed Jay slip out the door.
---
The street was quiet.
The morning fog hung low over Manila, soft and gray, muffling the sounds of the city. Jay walked with her hands in her pockets, her face turned toward the sky, her thoughts somewhere else. She needed milk. Eggs. Bread. The small things. The normal things. The things that made life feel ordinary.
The minimart was at the end of the street. Old. Small. Familiar. She had been here before. Before the war. Before the letters. Before Lyra. She had walked here with Keifer once, in the early days, when they were strangers, when they were enemies, when they didn't know they would fall in love.
She pushed open the door. The bell rang. The old woman behind the counter looked up. She smiled. Jay smiled back. She grabbed a basket. She walked through the aisles. Milk. Eggs. Bread. The small things. The normal things. The things that made life feel like it was still worth living.
She paid. She walked out. The bell rang. The door closed. The street was empty. The fog was thick. The city was quiet.
She didn't see them coming.
---
The first man grabbed her from behind.
His arm was around her throat. His grip was tight. His breath was hot on her ear. Jay dropped her bags. The eggs shattered. The milk spilled. The bread was crushed. She reached for her knife. It wasn't there. She had left it at home. She had left everything at home. She had wanted to be normal. She had wanted to be ordinary. She had wanted to be someone who didn't need a weapon to buy groceries.
The second man appeared from the shadows. His face was hard. His eyes were cold. His hands were empty. He was smiling.
"Jasper Jean Mariano Watson," he said. "You're a long way from home."
Jay's hands were empty. Her knife was gone. Her gun was gone. Her friends were gone. She was alone. She was defenseless. She was going to die.
"Sato's men," she said. Her voice was steady. Her face was calm. "I thought Sato was dead."
The man laughed. "Sato is dead. But his men are not. His money is not. His plans are not. And you—" He stepped closer. His face was inches from hers. "You are going to pay for what you did."
Jay didn't move. Her hands were at her sides. Her face was calm. "I didn't kill Sato."
"No. But the woman who did—she was there for you. She was protecting you. And when you die, she will come for us. And we will be ready."
He raised his hand. The knife was small. Thin. The kind of knife that could disappear in a sleeve, a pocket, the palm of a hand.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Watson," he said.
---
The shot came from the fog.
Jay heard it before she saw it. The crack of glass. The whistle of air. The sound of something moving too fast, too close. The man's knife fell. His hand was bleeding. His face was white. He turned. He looked at the fog. At the place where the shot had come from.
"Who's there?" he shouted.
The woman stepped out of the fog.
She was tall. Her hair was black. Her mask was black. Her clothes were black. She was a shadow. A ghost. A weapon. Her gun was raised. Her face was hidden. Her eyes were visible. They were sharp. They were steady. They were cold.
She walked toward the men. Her steps were silent. Her hands were steady. Her gun was aimed at the man who had held the knife.
"You're going to let her go," she said. Her voice was low. Her voice was familiar. Jay's heart stopped. She knew that voice. She had heard it before. She couldn't place it. She couldn't remember. She couldn't think.
The man laughed. It was a nervous sound. "You think you can save her? You think you can stop us? We have fifty men. We have—"
The woman fired. The man's shoulder exploded. He fell. His face was white. His hands were empty. The other men raised their guns. The woman moved. She was faster than them. She was faster than anyone. She fired again. And again. And again. The men fell. Five. Ten. Fifteen. They didn't have time to fire. They didn't have time to run. They were dead before they hit the ground.
The man who had held the knife was on his knees. His face was pale. His hands were empty. His men were gone. His army was gone. His war was over.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
The woman stood in front of him. Her gun was at his head. Her face was hidden. Her eyes were cold.
"I'm the one who's going to kill you," she said.
She pulled the trigger.
He fell. His body was heavy. His face was pale. His eyes were open. His hands were empty. The woman stood over him. Her gun was empty. Her hands were steady. Her face was hidden.
She turned. She looked at Jay. At the woman she had saved. At the woman she had protected. At the woman she had been watching.
Jay's hands were shaking. Her face was pale. Her heart was pounding. She knew that voice. She knew it. She had heard it before. In the warehouse. In the garden. In the corner. She couldn't place it. She couldn't remember. It was on the tip of her tongue. It was in her bones. It was everywhere and nowhere.
"Who are you?" Jay asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.
The woman walked toward her. Her steps were silent. Her hands were empty. Her mask was black. She stopped in front of Jay. Her face was hidden. Her eyes were visible. They were sharp. They were steady. They were familiar. They were sad.
"Be careful, Jay," the woman said. "They're not done. They will never be done. They will keep coming. They will keep hunting. They will keep—"
"Please," Jay said. Her voice cracked. "Please. I know you. I know your voice. I've heard it before. I've heard it a thousand times. In the house. In the garden. In the corner. In the—"
The woman's eyes flickered. Just for a moment. Something passed through them. Something that looked like pain. Something that looked like longing. Something that looked like goodbye.
"You don't know me," the woman said. Her voice was low. Her voice was steady. Her voice was empty.
"I do," Jay said. She reached for the woman's mask. Her hand was shaking. "Let me see you. Let me—"
The woman stepped back. Her hand was up. Her eyes were hard.
"Don't," she said.
Jay's hand fell. Her face was wet. "Why? Why won't you let me see you? Why won't you tell me who you are? Why do you keep saving me and then disappearing? Why—"
The woman looked at her. Her eyes were soft. Her voice was quiet. "Because some things are better left unknown. Because some doors should not be opened. Because some ghosts should stay buried."
She stepped back. She turned toward the fog.
"Wait," Jay said. She ran after her. Her hand was out. Her voice was desperate. "Please. Just tell me. Just—"
The woman stopped. She didn't turn. Her back was to Jay. Her hands were at her sides.
"Be careful, Jay," she said again. Her voice was softer now. Almost gentle. "They will keep coming. They will keep hunting. They will keep trying to take what you love. Don't let them. Don't let them win."
She walked into the fog. She disappeared. The street was empty. The bodies were on the ground. The milk was spilled. The eggs were broken. The bread was crushed.
Jay ran after her. She ran down the street. She ran to the corner. She ran to the alley. She ran to the end of the road. The woman was gone. There was nothing. There was no one. There was only fog. Only silence. Only emptiness.
Jay stood in the middle of the street. Her hands were empty. Her face was wet. Her heart was pounding. She knew that voice. She knew it. She had heard it before. In the warehouse. In the garden. In the corner. In the hospital. In the house. It was familiar. It was close. It was right there. And she couldn't remember. She couldn't place it. She couldn't hold on to it.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
There was no answer.
---
Keifer found her at the minimart.
She was sitting on the curb, her knees against her chest, her face buried in her arms. The eggs were broken. The milk was spilled. The bread was crushed. The bodies were gone. Freya had taken them. Erdix had helped. They had cleaned the street. They had erased the evidence. They had done what they always did.
Keifer knelt beside her. His hand was on her back. His voice was low.
"Jay. Jay, look at me."
She looked up. Her face was wet. Her eyes were red. Her hands were shaking.
"She saved me," Jay said. "She saved me again. She said to be careful. She said they're not done. They will never be done. They will keep coming. They will keep hunting. They will—"
Keifer pulled her close. His arms were around her. "Who? Who saved you?"
Jay held him. Her hands were shaking. Her voice was cracking. "The woman. The woman in the black mask. She came. She killed them. She saved me. And then she—" She stopped. Her voice cracked. Her hands tightened.
"She said what?" Keifer asked.
Jay pulled back. Her face was close to his. Her eyes were wide. "I know her. I know her voice. I've heard it before. I've heard it a thousand times. In the house. In the garden. In the corner. In the hospital. I know it. I know it and I can't—" She stopped. Her face was desperate. Her hands were fists.
"What? What is it?"
Jay looked at him. Her eyes were wet. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I know her voice. I know it. But I can't remember where. I can't remember who. It's right there. It's on the tip of my tongue. It's in my bones. And I can't—"
She stopped. Her face fell. Her hands went limp.
"I can't remember," she said. "I can't remember who she is."
Keifer pulled her close again. His arms were around her. His face was in her hair. "You will. When you're ready. When she's ready. You will."
Jay held him. Her face was in his chest. "She told me to be careful. She told me they will keep coming. She told me not to let them win."
Keifer kissed her hair. "Then we won't. We won't let them win."
---
The house was quiet when they got home.
Jay sat in the study. Her hands were empty. Her face was pale. Her eyes were on the door. Keifer was beside her. His hand was in hers. Percy was in the doorway. Aries was behind him. Ci N was on the sofa. Felix was beside him. Care was with Cole. Grace was with Denzel. Kit was with Mayo. Freya was with Erdix. Rakki was with Ci N. Mica was at her laptop. Calix was beside her. Ella was in the chair by the window, her hands folded, her face soft.
Alex was in the corner. Lyra's corner. His hands were in his pockets. His face was blank. His eyes were on the window where she used to watch. He didn't know. He couldn't know. No one knew.
"The woman saved me again," Jay said. Her voice was steady. Her face was calm. "She killed Sato's men. She told me to be careful. She said they will keep coming. They will never stop."
Percy's face was hard. "Who is she? Why is she helping us? Why won't she show her face?"
Jay looked at the window. At the fog that was lifting. At the sun that was rising. At the place where the woman had disappeared.
"I don't know," Jay said. "I know her voice. I've heard it before. But I can't remember where. I can't remember who. It's like a dream. It's like a memory that's just out of reach. I can almost touch it. I can almost see it. And then it's gone."
Mica's fingers moved on her laptop. "I've been tracking her. The cameras. The street. The minimart. Nothing. She appears out of nowhere. She disappears into nowhere. There's no trace. No record. No nothing."
Jay looked at the screen. At the empty footage. At the blank faces. At the ghost who was saving them.
"She'll come back," Jay said. "When we need her. She'll always come back."
She looked at Alex. At the man standing in Lyra's corner. At the man waiting for a woman who would never return.
She looked away. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't give him hope. Not yet. Not until she knew. Not until she was sure.
---
The night came.
Jay stood at the window of her room. The garden was dark. The steps were broken. The corner was empty. Keifer came in behind her. His arms went around her waist. His face was in her hair.
"You're thinking," he said.
She leaned against him. "I'm always thinking."
He turned her to face him. His hands were on her face. His eyes were steady. "About the woman."
Jay looked at him. "I know her voice. I know it. And I can't remember. I can't—"
He kissed her forehead. "You will. When the time is right. When she's ready. You will remember."
She looked at the window. At the dark garden. At the empty street. At the place where the woman had disappeared.
"She knows us," Jay said. "She knows this house. She knows our habits. She knows where to be. When to be there. She knows—"
She stopped. Her eyes went wide. Her hand went to her mouth.
"What?" Keifer asked. "What is it?"
Jay looked at him. Her face was pale. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"She knew I would be at the minimart. She knew I would be alone. She knew they would come. She knew everything."
Keifer's hands tightened on her face. "She's been watching. She's been waiting. She's been protecting us."
Jay pulled away. She walked to the window. Her hands were on the glass. Her eyes were on the dark.
"Who is she?" Jay whispered. "Who is she and why won't she let us see her face?"
There was no answer. The garden was dark. The street was empty. The corner was empty. The woman was gone.
But somewhere out there, in the shadows, in the fog, in the silence, she was watching. She was waiting. She was protecting.
And one day, she would come back. One day, she would let them see her face. One day, they would know.
Until then, Jay would wait. They would all wait.
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END OF CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT