The rooftop was quiet except for the distant hum of the city. Liora stood motionless, the cold breeze teasing strands of her dark hair as her gaze fixed on the glowing lights below. The city looked alive, vibrant even, but it masked the rot beneath. She tightened her coat around her, steeling herself against the cold—and the thoughts threatening to surface.
Her mind kept returning to the surveillance footage from the previous night. Seeing Lucius again had triggered something deep within her—a mix of dread and anger. He had always been good at this: staying one step ahead, taunting her with his presence. It was as if he thrived on the slow unraveling of her composure.
Liora pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number. "Elijah," she said as soon as he answered, her tone clipped. "Meet me at the precinct in ten minutes. I want every piece of information we have on the victim, Simon Trevors."
The pause on the other end was telling. Elijah was used to her brusque tone, but there was something sharper in her voice tonight. "You okay?" he asked cautiously.
"Just get there," she replied, ending the call before he could pry further.
She glanced down at the street again, her thoughts drifting back to Lucius. Years ago, when she was still a rookie detective, Lucius had been nothing more than a name on a file. A highly intelligent criminal with a penchant for mind games, he had been linked to several unexplained deaths, though nothing could be pinned on him. But Liora had been reckless back then, too eager to prove herself. She had gone after him alone—and she had paid the price.
Her fingers brushed against the faint scar on her neck, a ghost of that night. She could still remember the way Lucius had smiled at her, his voice like silk as he whispered, "Fate isn't kind to those who defy it."
The precinct was alive with activity when Liora arrived. Officers bustled about, the hum of conversations and ringing phones filling the air. Elijah was already waiting for her in one of the briefing rooms, a thick file spread out across the table.
"Simon Trevors," Elijah began, gesturing to the file. "Low-level informant, mostly fed us scraps on petty crimes. Nothing that would put him in harm's way—at least, not on the surface."
Liora sat across from him, flipping through the documents. There were photos of Simon, police reports, and a list of his known associates. But one page caught her attention: a timeline of Simon's recent activities.
"He met someone two nights ago," Elijah continued, pointing to a highlighted entry. "We don't know who, but the meeting was off the books. No record of him reporting anything afterward."
"Where?" Liora asked, her tone sharp.
"An abandoned warehouse in East Haven. The place is a hotspot for illegal dealings, but Simon shouldn't have been there. We pulled the security footage from the area."
Elijah turned his laptop toward her, and Liora leaned in. The footage was grainy, but it clearly showed Simon entering the warehouse. Moments later, another figure appeared—cloaked in shadows, their face obscured. But it was the way the figure moved that made Liora's heart pound. It was calculated, deliberate. Familiar.
"That's him," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
"Lucius?" Elijah asked, his expression darkening.
Liora nodded, her stomach twisting. "He's back. And he's making his presence known."