The night had swallowed the sky whole.
No moon. No stars. Just a heavy stretch of darkness pressing down over the cemetery, the kind that made the world feel smaller, as though even sound itself was being suffocated.
The wind moved restlessly through the trees, carrying with it the sharp cries of crows perched somewhere deep within the woods, their calls echoing like warnings no one could quite understand.
And beneath it all—cutting through the quiet—were the sounds of effort.
Grunts. Strained breathing. The dull, repetitive scrape of metal biting into earth.
At the far corner of the cemetery, near a rusted fence half-swallowed by overgrown weeds, two figures worked in darkness.
Victoria's arms trembled as she drove the shovel into the ground again, her grip tightening as she forced her weight into it. The soil was heavier than she expected, damp and stubborn, clinging to the blade as though refusing to give way. Her breathing came unevenly, each inhale shallow, each exhale shaking as exhaustion began to creep into her muscles.
Beside her, the blonde man worked with steady precision.
He had no hesitation, nor wasted movement.
The rhythm of his digging didn't break, didn't falter, as though this was something his body understood too well.
Victoria slowed.
Her shovel sank halfway into the earth before she stopped completely, her chest rising too fast, her lungs burning. She straightened slightly, pushing strands of damp hair away from her face as she turned toward him.
"What if someone catches us?" she asked, her eyes scanning the darkness beyond the trees.
He didn't stop digging.
"Don't worry," he replied calmly. "I know the guard here. Nothing will happen."
His tone should have reassured her.
But it didn't.
Victoria swallowed, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she forced herself to keep going, pushing the shovel back into the soil, though her movements were slower now, heavier.
A few minutes passed in strained silence.
"Why here?" she asked suddenly, the question slipping out before she could stop it. "Why are we hiding him here? Isn't it… wrong to dig up someone else's grave?"
This time, he paused.
Then he drove the shovel in again, pushing down with controlled force.
"The best place to hide a body," he said, almost thoughtfully, "is in a cemetery. Nobody comes looking for what's already buried."
Victoria froze for half a second.
Her eyes shifted to him again, studying him now—really studying him.
The way he moved.
The way he spoke.
The way none of this seemed to shake him.
A quiet unease settled deeper in her chest.
How did he think of that so fast?
The thought came uninvited.
And once it did, it didn't leave.
Because it wasn't just that.
It was everything.
The speed at which he had arrived. The way he had handled the body without hesitation. The way he had cleaned the blood from their carpet, efficiently, thoroughly, as though he knew exactly where and how. The drive out of town was quiet, his hands steady on the wheel while she sat beside him barely holding herself together.
He hadn't panicked.
Not once.
Even now, in the middle of a cemetery, digging up a grave in the dead of night, he looked… composed.
In control.
Victoria's grip on the shovel tightened.
Was it coincidence?
Her mind lingered on the question for a second longer than it should have.
Then she shook her head sharply, forcing the thought away.
This wasn't the time.
She drove the shovel back into the earth.
They worked faster after that, urgency pushing them forward, the hole deepening with every passing minute until—
A dull, hollow sound.
Victoria paused, her breath catching.
He stopped too.
Slowly, he crouched, brushing away dirt with his hands until the edge of a coffin revealed itself beneath the soil.
"Good," he murmured.
Before she could react, he forced the lid open.
The smell hit instantly.
It was pungent, rotting and strongly oerpowering.
Victoria recoiled violently, stumbling back as her stomach twisted. She turned away just in time, gagging as she rushed a few steps aside, coughing harshly as she tried to breathe through it.
"Oh God—" she choked, pressing a hand to her mouth as her body rebelled.
He didn't rush her but simply waited.
By the time she steadied herself, wiping her mouth with shaking fingers, he spoke again. "We have to put him in there," he said.
Victoria stared at him, horrified.
"What?"
"It's the safest way," he continued. "There's already a body here. No one will suspect anything."
He gestured toward the pickup truck behind them.
"There's a dead animal in the trunk. We'll bury it on top. If anyone checks, they'll assume it's the animal that was buried recently, not what's inside the coffin."
Silence stretched between them.
Victoria's eyes filled slowly, her voice barely holding together as she asked the question that had been building all along.
"How do you know all this?"
He stepped closer.
Close enough that she could see his expression clearly now, calm but something almost reassuring behind it.
"You want to stay safe, don't you?" he asked quietly.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
His hand rested gently on her shoulder.
"I know this isn't easy," he continued. "But listen to me… I've seen you. For months now. I know how hard you work. And I know you didn't do this out of cruelty."
Victoria's chest tightened.
"You were protecting your family," he added softly. "And they need you. So nothing can happen to you. Not now."
Her vision blurred slightly.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. "…Okay."
Together, they moved.
The body, wrapped tightly in plastic, felt heavier than it should have, the weight of it sinking into her arms, into her chest, into everything she was trying not to think about.
They lowered it carefully and slowly.
The moment it settled into the coffin—Light exploded across them.
Bright and blinding lights
Victoria froze instantly, her body going rigid as her hands flew up to shield her face.
Her heart dropped.
"Who goes there?" The voice was sharp.
Several footsteps then followed, surrounding the space around them.
Victoria's breath caught in her throat as panic surged through her all over again, her mind scrambling, her chest tightening so fast she thought she might collapse right there.
This couldn't be real.
This had to be a nightmare.
If she could just—
Heavy silence fell.
No one spoke. Not even the man beside her.
And in that moment, something hit her with terrifying clarity.
She didn't even know his name.
All this… after everything… and she didn't even know the name of the man standing next to her that was helping her bury a body — her father's body.
Her gaze shifted slowly toward the source of the light.
A figure stepped forward.
A tall broad figure obscured the light. Dressed entirely in black.
His long silver hair, tied into a low ponytail, caught the white light, strands lifting slightly with the wind, giving him an almost unreal presence against the darkness.
She couldn't see his face but only the silhouette. But it was enough to make her knees weak in intimidation.
"What are you doing in my cemetery?" the tall figure asked.
Her throat went dry.
She glanced quickly at the blonde man, her eyes wide, practically screaming say something without a single word leaving her lips.
Silence drew longer before—
"We came to hide a body."
Victoria's head snapped toward him. Her brain stalled.
Of all the things!? Of all the possible things!
That?
That was what he chose to say?
For a brief, completely inappropriate moment, a thought slipped through her panic—
Oh, so this is the genius plan? Confess immediately? Wonderful. Absolutely brilliant. Her mental health cracked. She should have stayed home and just confessed to the police.
Her eyes burned as she looked back at the man in front of them.
Two other figures stepped forward, flanking him.
Guards, they seemed.
Without another word, they moved.
Rough hands grabbed her arms, pulling them back as she struggled instinctively.
"Wait—!" she gasped, her breath breaking as panic surged. "Wait, I can explain—!"
The silver-haired man didn't react.
"Whose body?" he asked calmly.
Silence again.
Victoria's mind raced.
Should she trust him?
This stranger beside her?
A man who handled bodies too easily… who stayed calm too easily… and who had just confessed at the worst possible moment?
Yes, brilliant choice, Victoria. Your life is clearly in excellent hands.
Her stomach twisted.
No.
No, she couldn't leave this to him. He came here because of her.
She swallowed hard, forcing her voice out.
"It's not what it looks like," she said quickly. "It was self-defense—"
The words sounded weak even to her own ears.
The man watched.
"Call the police," he said, turning in the opposite direction to walk away.
Everything shattered.
"No— no, wait!" Victoria cried, struggling harder now, her knees buckling as she dropped forward despite their grip. "Please— please don't call the police—!"
Her voice cracked completely.
"I beg you— please—" Tears streamed freely now as she shook her head desperately. "Don't call them— I'll do anything— anything, please—!"
Her chest heaved violently.
"It's my father," she choked out. "He doesn't have anyone else… we're the only ones— no one is going to press charges, please—"
Her voice broke entirely as she screamed—
"I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE!"
He paused.