The Walk

Lucille hesitated, her fingers still clutching Asha’s sleeve, as if grounding herself. Asha could see the exhaustion in her eyes—the weight of something she wasn’t saying.

Fiona, still standing her ground, let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re still here? I told you to fuck off. What, you need it in writing?”

The ex scoffed but didn’t respond this time. Instead, her gaze flickered to Lucille—searching, almost expectant.

Lucille didn’t meet her eyes.

That seemed to be enough. With one final, dismissive shake of her head, the ex turned and walked off, her posture stiff with frustration.

Fiona watched her retreat, muttering under her breath, before turning to Lucille. Her expression softened. “You good?”

Lucille nodded, but Asha could tell she wasn’t.

“Come on,” Asha murmured again. “Let’s get out of here.”

Lucille didn’t argue. She let Asha lead her away, away from the rink, the crowd, the lingering stares. They didn’t stop until they reached the quieter part of the building, where the buzz of laughter and music faded into a distant hum.

Asha leaned against the wall, exhaling. “She always like that?”

Lucille, still quiet, gave a small nod.

Asha tilted her head, watching her carefully. “You okay?”

Lucille hesitated before shaking her head. No.

Something in Asha’s chest tightened.

She’d seen that look before—helpless, drained, trapped in a loop of something ugly from the past. And it made her furious. Not just at the ex, but at the fact that Lucille had to deal with this at all.

Asha exhaled slowly, forcing herself to loosen the tension in her jaw. She wasn’t about to snap again—not in front of Lucille. Not when she already looked so overwhelmed.

Instead, she smirked, nudging Lucille’s arm lightly. “Well… at least we know your ex still sucks.”

Lucille blinked, then let out a breathy laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Asha grinned. “There we go. I was starting to think I’d have to start doing tricks on the ice to cheer you up.”

Lucille raised an eyebrow. Skeptical.

Asha’s grin widened. “Okay, maybe not actual tricks. More like… falling dramatically and pretending it was on purpose.”

Lucille snorted.

Asha felt an odd sort of satisfaction settle in her chest. She didn’t need Lucille to talk to know she was feeling better. It was in the way her shoulders had relaxed, the slight amusement in her eyes.

Maybe Asha wasn’t great at comforting people. Maybe she didn’t always know the right thing to say.

But she knew one thing for sure—

She wanted to keep Lucille looking at her like that.

The walk to Lucille’s house was quiet. Not the kind of silence that felt awkward, but the kind where words weren’t needed. The air between them was comfortable, though Asha remained alert, her senses tingling with something off.

Lucille walked beside her, arms tucked into her sleeves, her steps slower than usual—like she was dragging the weight of the night with her. Asha cast a glance her way, noting the way her lips pressed together, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

“You okay?” Asha asked, keeping her tone casual.

Lucille hesitated, then gave a small nod. But Asha wasn’t convinced.

Still, she didn’t push.

She just walked her home, steady and quiet, because that’s what Lucille needed.

But Asha wasn’t walking her home just to be kind.

No.

She knew they weren’t alone.

She’d noticed it back at the rink—the subtle weight of a stare that lingered too long, the way the air felt just off enough to put her on edge. At first, she assumed it was just paranoia. But then, on the walk home, she felt it again. The presence. The eyes. The sound of footsteps just a beat too slow behind them, fading when they turned corners.

Someone was following them.

And Asha had a damn good idea who.

She didn’t let Lucille notice. She didn’t change her pace or tense up. She just kept walking, kept talking like everything was normal. Because Lucille didn’t need more on her mind tonight.

When they reached her house, Lucille stopped at the doorstep and turned to Asha, her expression softer now, the exhaustion still there but not as heavy.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Asha nodded. “Anytime.”

Lucille hesitated, like she wanted to say more, but instead, she gave a small wave and stepped inside. Asha waited until the door shut, listened for the faint click of the lock.

Then—

Her entire demeanor shifted.

The moment Lucille was safe inside, Asha’s expression darkened. The light ease in her eyes vanished, replaced by something cold—something dangerous.

She turned on her heel and walked calmly back toward the street. But instead of leaving—

She disappeared into the shadows.

Waiting.

Listening.

And just as she expected—

The presence was still there.

Hiding.

Lurking.

Asha’s lip curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

Found you.

She moved fast—faster than the human eye could track, slipping through the dark like she was part of it. And before her target even had time to react, she was behind them.

Close enough to feel their breath hitch.

Close enough that when she spoke, her voice was a ghost against their ear.

"How many?"

The figure jolted violently, sucking in a sharp breath. They whirled around—only to freeze.

A sharp edge pressed against their throat. Not a knife. No, something sharper. Something alive.

Asha tilted her head, watching as the girl—Saera—went rigid with fear.

Lucille’s ex.

Her pupils were blown wide, breath stammering as she struggled to comprehend what was happening.

"Wh—who—who are you?" she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. The shake in her tone was undeniable.

Asha didn’t answer. She didn’t blink.

She only pressed the blade-like tip against Saera’s skin, feeling the faintest tremor run through her.

"How many nights have you done this?"