Chapter 55

The evening air was cool as Peter stepped onto the sidewalk, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Streetlights cast long shadows between parked cars, and somewhere a cat rustled through a trash bin.

He walked with no real hurry, letting the quiet settle.

His mind didn't spiral with complications or predictions. It just... drifted.

They're good people, he thought. Simple. Strong. Clean.

Not like the broken people he'd manipulated, warned, or ignored. Not like Sebastian, or Flash, or Norman. 

He wondered how long that could last.

Would he have to hurt someone else to protect this kind of life?

Would he care?

Probably not. But for now, this moment was peaceful.

And in Peter's world, peace was valuable currency.

He walked on, the city murmuring quietly around him.

The lock clicked softly as Peter pushed the front door open.

The living room was dimly lit, bathed in the warm glow of the floor lamp beside the couch. Aunt May and Uncle Ben were sitting side by side, their legs stretched out, coffee mugs in hand. A documentary played low on the TV, some nature special about penguins waddling through snowdrifts.

They both looked over as Peter entered.

"Well, there he is," Uncle Ben said with a smile. "We were starting to wonder if she kidnapped you."

Peter slipped off his shoes and dropped his backpack gently beside the coat rack. "She tried. I escaped through the window."

Aunt May chuckled, setting her mug down. "How was it? Did you have a good time?"

Peter walked into the room and leaned against the back of the couch. "It was nice. Quiet. Her mom's good people. Steady. She reminds me a little of you, actually."

May gave him a soft smile. "I like her already."

"Did she cook?" Ben asked. "I remember Margaret Allan's chicken from the PTA days. That woman knew her spices."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, roasted chicken. Stir-fried vegetables. Garlic bread. Store-bought apple pie for dessert. Simple but really well done."

"You didn't overthink anything and weird her out, did you?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter smiled faintly. "Only the usual amount."

"Good," May said. "It's nice to see you out with someone. You've always been a bit... reserved."

Peter didn't argue. He wasn't going to say it wasn't intentional.

They sat there for another minute or two, basking in the warmth of the house. Peter noticed the faint scent of lavender from May's diffuser in the corner. The gentle hum of the heater filled the background.

Eventually, he pushed off the couch and stretched. "I'm gonna turn in early. Got homework to finish and a quiz tomorrow."

May nodded. "Alright, sweetheart. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, kiddo," Ben said.

Peter offered them a small nod and made his way to his room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The silence of his room was comforting. His desk lamp flicked on with a subtle buzz. He slipped into his chair, pulled his laptop closer, and logged in. No alerts. No pending homework.

So he did what he always did when there was nothing urgent.

He scrolled.

News. Forums. Niche subreddits. Local alerts. Tech blogs.

About fifteen minutes in, a local headline caught his eye on a Queens bulletin site.

Woman Killed in Late-Night Collision 

A 38-year-old woman was killed late last night in a car crash on East 89th and Holland Avenue in Queens. Authorities believe the victim, identified as Nicole L. Howard, lost control of her vehicle at high speed before veering into a construction barrier.

Emergency services arrived within minutes, but she was pronounced dead at the scene. No signs of external tampering or foul play were reported.

Police concluded that the incident was accidental and have closed the case. There will be no further investigation.

Howard was an administrative manager for a small logistics firm in Brooklyn.

More updates to follow if available.

Peter's eyes skimmed the text again.

Nicole L. Howard.

It was her. The wife. The one who had betrayed Sebastian with her boss.

He stared at the screen for several seconds, body perfectly still. No sudden movements. No sharp inhalations. Just quiet.

Looks like Sebastian did his work, Peter thought.

He scrolled down to the comments. Most were either speculative guesses or expressions of sympathy. One person wondered if road conditions were to blame. Another posted "RIP" with a candle emoji.

No mention of Sebastian. No suspicion. No trail.

Peter leaned back in his chair and let the faint hum of his CPU fan fill the silence.

It wasn't satisfaction he felt. Not quite. It was more like... confirmation.

He had told Sebastian what to do. And Sebastian had listened. No grand vengeance arc. No messy explosion of guilt. Just a man, pushed too far, doing what Peter suggested—and doing it well.

He closed the article and shut the lid of his laptop.

He stood, walked to the window, and looked out over the night-lit rooftops. The city buzzed quietly, unaware. Life moved on. Just like always.

He didn't feel guilt. He didn't feel triumph.

He felt... settled.

The kind of stillness that comes when something is no longer dangling—no longer hanging in the back of the mind.

Sebastian was free. Nicole was gone. The world had turned a page without noticing.

Peter turned away from the window and undressed slowly. He climbed into bed, pulled the blanket over him, and stared at the ceiling.

No one would connect it to him. Not ever.