Ava took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid thrum of her heart. She turned the knob slowly, allowing the door to creak open just enough to let Gerald in. For a moment, the hallway light didn’t touch his face, leaving him half-shrouded in shadow. But even in that dim light, his presence filled the room.Gerald’s eyes widened imperceptibly, though only Ava could have noticed. She was still clad in her towel, damp hair cascading over her shoulders, and despite herself, she realized he was staring. It wasn’t just a glance, it was the kind of look that made the air in the room suddenly thick, heavy with unspoken tension.He shook his head slightly, as if trying to refocus. “Ava,” he said, his voice low, almost hoarse. “I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. His mind wasn’t on the case anymore; it was on her. The kiss, the memory of it had refused to leave him just as it had refused to leave Ava. And to think that he had kissed her that day not because he had planned it bu

Gary sat heavily in one of the plush armchairs, staring at the photographs on the wall again. The stories from the previous night had really opened something deep within him. And that had pushed him back to the photographs once again, as though staring at them might open up deeper layers into what exactly he was connected to.And then, as though the photographs actually did it, the feeling of asking Susan why she had remained hidden for over twenty years came back again. He had been so overtaken by Susan's story from the previous day about "Campus Quadro," as she tagged the group consisting of herself, Brenda, Julia, and Helsin, that it didn't occur to him to ask him that question again.But now that he had remembered, he decided it was time to ask before he and Courtney would finally leave later on during the day.“Mom,” he began, voice low but shaking, “I need to know something. "What's that?" Susan asked, her brow furrowing slightly. And that was because, as far as she was concern

Brenda’s breath quickened as the implications slammed into her all at once. If the bodies weren’t Steven and Susan, then whose were they?Her mind spiraled, the questions tightening around her like ropes. This wasn't supposed to be happening, especially not now that they were getting very close to awakening obsidian. The reason they had gone to such lengths to remove Steven and Susan from the picture was because they posed obstacles to their plans, and just when they thought their chapters had been closed for good, it was looking as though they were returning from the dead one after the other again.“Who lied?” she murmured under her breath. “Who dared to deceive me… to deceive Richard?”Her pacing grew frantic, her robe fluttering behind her like a restless shadow. She pressed a trembling palm against the cool glass of her window, staring into the night sky as though the stars might provide answers.She didn’t know what scared her more:That Steven might be alive… or that someone wh

Chance found Gerald deep in the shadows of the western arch of ridgewood abandoned tower. The Inspector was staring out, but his posture wasn't one of contemplation; it was the rigid stance of a man surveying a battlefield.“What do you know about Helsin and Wilfreda?” Chance asked, going straight to the point, and not waiting to beat around the bush or exchange any form of pleasantry.Gerald turned slowly. “I know they were taken by a level of professional that makes my most decorated CSSA tactical units look like mall security,” Gerald stated, his voice low and devoid of its usual bureaucratic cadence. “The kind that don't just avoid traffic cameras; they anticipate forensic counter-analysis. They use aerosolized solvent sprays at the point of entry to degrade DNA and fiber evidence. They’re ghosts.”He took a step forward, into a sliver of light. “This isn’t just about the relics, Chance,” Gerald said, his voice intensifying. “The Acherlands case, the political framing of your moth

“He didn’t answer.” Chance’s voice was flat, the shock of the last hour hardening into something colder, and more brittle.Julia didn’t move from her place by the door, her silhouette rigid against the soft light of the hallway. “It’s late. He could be—”“No.” Chance cut her off, his thumb already jabbing the call button again. He put the phone back to his ear. This time, the hollow ring didn’t even start. Instead, a crisp, automated female voice intruded instantly, devoid of any warmth.“The number you have dialed is currently switched off. Please try your call again later.”Chance lowered the phone slowly. The screen’s glow lit his face, etching the lines of dread around his eyes.“Gerald has turned off his phone,” he said. The words weren’t just an observation; they were a diagnosis. A prognosis.Julia understood immediately. The cold fury in her eyes didn’t diminish, but it was joined now by a sharp, pragmatic fear. She stepped fully into the room, closing the door softly behind