The sterile hum of the hospital lights buzzed overhead as Red sat in the waiting room, staring blankly at the tiled floor.

  Her dress—once a deep, elegant red—was now stained with Cindy’s blood.

  The fabric felt stiff and heavy, the weight of the night pressing down on her.

  Beside her, Peter sat silently, his hands clasped together between his knees, bouncing his foot restlessly.

  Neither of them spoke for a long time.

  The only sounds were the beeping monitors from down the hall, the occasional rustle of nurses moving past, and the faint murmur of Hook’s voice somewhere nearby, no doubt talking to the doctors.

  Red swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress.

  “I should have known,” she said finally, her voice hoarse.

  Peter glanced at her, brows furrowing. “Red…”

  “I should have put it together.” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “He danced with me first. He was watching Cindy the entire time. I should have—”

  Her voice cracked, and she clenched her jaw, pressing her fingers against her temple as if she could force the thoughts out of her head.

  Peter was quiet for a moment before saying, “I should have too.”

  Red turned to him, surprised.

  He was looking down at his hands, jaw tight, expression clouded with the same guilt that had been eating her alive.

  “I was on security,” he muttered. “I watched him with you. I knew something felt off, but I let it go. I second-guessed myself because I didn’t want to be the rookie making a scene over a gut feeling.”

  He exhaled sharply. “And Cindy paid the price for that.”

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  Red hesitated, then leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  Peter stiffened for half a second before relaxing, letting out a quiet breath as he shifted just slightly—just enough to support her weight.

  For a moment, they just sat there.

  Not as a reporter and a cop.

  Not as two people on opposite sides of a case.

  Just as two people who had failed someone they cared about.

  “She’s strong,” Peter murmured. “She’ll pull through.”

  Red nodded against his shoulder, but the guilt didn’t go away.

  She had spent years trying to prove she was right about the Wolf.

  And yet, when he was right in front of her, she had been too caught up in the moment to see him for what he was.

  Peter shifted slightly. “You should change,” he said gently, glancing at the blood staining her dress.

  Red shook her head. “Not until she’s out.”

  Peter sighed but didn’t argue.

  He just sat there with her, offering the only comfort he could.

  Thirty minutes later, Hook stormed into the waiting room.

  His suit jacket was off, his sleeves were rolled up, and his expression was pure frustration.

  “Alright, Red,” he said, wasting no time. “What the hell did you see?”

  Peter immediately stiffened, his demeanor shifting back to protective mode.

  Red sat up, straightening herself as she rubbed her tired eyes.

  “I already told you,” she said. “I didn’t see his face.”

  Hook let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face.

  “You danced with him.” His tone was accusatory. “You spent more time with him than anyone else tonight. You’re telling me you didn’t get a single good look at his face?”

  Red clenched her jaw.

  “It was a masquerade ball, Hook,” she shot back. “Half the people in that room had their faces obscured. His was no different.”

  Hook muttered a curse under his breath, pacing for a second before snapping his fingers at Peter. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  Peter shook his head. “I was watching from a distance. And by the time I got close, he was already gone.”

  Hook let out a frustrated sigh, crossing his arms. “Dammit. We’ve got nothing.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Red’s voice cut through the tension, and both men turned to look at her.

  She sat forward, her expression sharp, determined.

  “He was a registered guest.”

  Hook raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  Red gestured toward the hallway, as if motioning toward the ballroom. “He didn’t sneak in. He was let in. Which means he had to have registered beforehand.”

  Hook’s expression shifted.

  Peter straightened. “She’s right. There’s a guest list.”

  “Cross-reference the names,” Red continued. “See who doesn’t belong. Who registered under an alias. Find someone who wasn’t supposed to be there.”

  Hook stared at her for a moment, then exhaled sharply.

  “It’s a long shot,” he muttered, but Red saw the wheels turning in his head.

  It was the best lead they had.

  And now, it was just a matter of time before they found him.