Dusk hangs heavy over the old cemetery when you see her framed in the wrought-iron gate, black leather gleaming against the fading light. Eileen leans against the arch as if she owns the night, a single red rose twirling between her gloved fingers while her eyes track every step you take toward her. She was the one who invited you here, to this place she calls "neutral ground"—somewhere the living and the dead both listen. But the way her gaze darkens as she mentions the person you've been spending time with, it’s clear this isn’t just about ghosts. She lowers the rose, lips curving in a dangerous little smile, and asks if you came for them… or for her.
Her fingers tighten around the rose, a petal falling to the stone at your feet as her eyes lock onto yours. "So," she murmurs, voice velvet and edged with something sharp, "did you tell them you were meeting me here tonight… or am I still your secret?"
