Chapter 36 He Kills

Chapter 36 He Kills
A massive rest house stood before her, white walls glowing softly under the night lights. Large windows reflected the moonlit sea. The place looked peaceful, almost beautiful—but the tall fences, armed guards, and quiet vigilance made one thing painfully clear.
This wasn’t just a home.
It was a fortress.
Olive hugged herself, trembling.
Two women appeared at the entrance almost immediately.
They were dressed neatly, their movements quiet and practiced, like this was something they had done many times before. Both of them bowed slightly toward Leo, respectful and precise, before turning their attention to Olive. Without speaking, they gently extended their arms toward her—an unspoken invitation.
Olive froze.
Her fingers tightened around the hem of her blood-stained nurse uniform as she looked back at Leo, confusion and hesitation written clearly on her face. Everything still felt unreal—too fast, too heavy, like her body was here but her mind hadn’t caught up yet.
Leo met her gaze and nodded once, slow and reassuring.
“Go with them,” he said softly. “You should clean yourself.”
Only then did Olive really look down at herself.
The white fabric of her uniform was smeared with dirt and dried blood. Her hands were shaking. Her shoes—she couldn’t bring herself to look at them anymore.
She swallowed hard, then nodded.
The two women began escorting her inside.
The moment Olive stepped into the rest house, the air changed. It smelled clean—soap mixed with sea breeze. The interior was quiet, almost unnervingly so, nothing like the chaos she had just escaped. Soft lights lined the hallways, casting a warm glow over white walls and polished floors.
Still, Olive felt out of place.
Everyone she passed was a stranger. Their faces were calm, composed—too calm for people who had just come from gunfire and bloodshed. Leo was the only familiar presence, and with every step she took farther away from him, her chest tightened.
One of the women—an older lady with silver hair pulled neatly back—glanced at Olive with gentle eyes.
“You’ve been through a lot,” she said softly.
Her gaze flicked briefly to Olive’s pale face, her trembling hands, the torn and stained uniform. There was no judgment in her voice—only quiet concern.
That alone nearly broke Olive.
She hesitated, then asked in a small, unsteady voice, “W-Where… where is this place?”
They continued walking, turning down a corridor that led toward what looked like a private bathing area. Somewhere ahead, the faint sound of running water echoed softly.
The older woman answered calmly, as if stating something simple.
“This is Vescari territory,” she said. “You’re safe here now.”
Olive absorbed the words slowly.
Safe.
She wasn’t sure she knew what that meant anymore.
The two maids stopped just outside the door.
“If you need anything,” one of them said gently, her voice low and careful, “just call for us. We’ll be right here.”
“The clothes are already prepared inside,” the older woman added, offering a reassuring smile that didn’t feel forced.
Olive looked at them for a brief moment, still trying to process everything—where she was, who these people were, and how quickly her life had been pulled out from under her. Then she nodded quietly, reached for the door handle, and stepped inside.
She closed the door behind her.
And froze.
The shower room was bigger than her entire bedroom back home.
Soft, warm lighting washed over marble walls veined with silver and gray. The floor beneath her feet was smooth stone, faintly warm, like it had been heated from below. The air carried a clean scent—soap, water, something calming she couldn’t name.
To her right was a spacious walk-in closet lined with wooden shelves and hanging rails. Everything was arranged neatly—folded towels stacked evenly, robes hanging straight, clothes wrapped in clear fabric as if waiting just for her.
She took a few slow steps forward, her shoes echoing softly in the quiet.
Then she saw the bathtub.
It sat at the center of the room like a centerpiece—large, oval, carved from polished white stone. Gold fixtures gleamed under the lights, the faucet curved elegantly, more like art than plumbing. Faint steam lingered above the water, proof it had been prepared recently. Beside it, a small marble table held bottles arranged with care—oils, soaps, bath salts—each labeled in delicate lettering.
Tall glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, draped with sheer curtains that softened the moonlight. Beyond them, she could make out the dark outline of the sea, waves moving slowly, endlessly.
Olive swallowed.
This wasn’t just luxury.
This was power—quiet, controlled, unquestionable.
Slowly, she reached up and unclipped her ID. The plastic made a small sound as it came free, louder than it should have been in the silence. Her hands were still trembling. The blood-stained nurse uniform felt heavier now, clinging to her skin like the memory of everything she had just survived.
She slipped her shoes off first. Then her uniform, piece by piece, folding it awkwardly before setting it aside. Her eyes dropped to the marks on her wrists—red, bruised, still faintly swollen. She traced them lightly with her fingers, wincing.
Only then did she step into the bath.
The warm water wrapped around her immediately, soothing in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. She sank down slowly, exhaling as her shoulders relaxed for the first time in what felt like days.
The quiet pressed in.
And then—without warning—her strength gave out.
Olive’s shoulders began to shake.
At first, it was silent. Just a tight inhale. Then another. Her breath hitched as tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, sliding down her cheeks one after another.
She pressed a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t stop the sob that escaped her.
The quiet, the warmth, the safety of the room—it all came crashing down on her at once.
The gunshots. Dexter falling at her feet. Blood on her shoes. Being dragged, tied, threatened. Watching Leo kill without hesitation.
Her knees buckled.
Her chest ached, tight and heavy, every breath painful. She felt small—so small—in a world that suddenly felt too big, too brutal.
She hugged her arms around herself, crying harder now.
She was traumatized.
And she can’t even deny it.