The warehouse in East Haven loomed ahead, its broken windows and rusted exterior a stark reminder of the city's darker underbelly. Liora and Elijah stood at the entrance, flashlights in hand, their breath visible in the cold night air.
"Why here?" Elijah muttered as they stepped inside, their boots crunching on debris. "If Lucius wanted to stay hidden, why leave a trail?"
"Because he wants me to follow," Liora replied, her grip tightening on her flashlight. "This isn't about the victims. It's about me. He's drawing me in."
The interior of the warehouse was eerily quiet, the shadows stretching across the walls like silent witnesses. They moved carefully, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. Liora's instincts were on high alert, every creak and groan of the building setting her nerves on edge.
Near the center of the warehouse, they found a makeshift table covered in papers and photographs. Liora's blood ran cold as she recognized the faces in the photos—each one a victim in the recent string of murders.
"These are his trophies," she said, her voice tight. "He's keeping track of his work."
Elijah picked up one of the photos, his brow furrowing. "This one's dated two days from now," he said, pointing to the timestamp.
Liora's eyes widened as she scanned the photo. It was a young woman, her face frozen in an expression of fear. "He's planning his next move," she said, a mix of dread and determination rising in her chest. "We have to find her before he does."
But as they searched the table, Liora found something that stopped her cold. A photo of herself, taken from a distance. It was recent, no more than a day old. On the back, a message was scrawled in elegant handwriting:
"Welcome back to the game, Detective. Let's see if you can keep up this time."
Elijah noticed her pale expression and stepped closer. "What is it?" he asked, but Liora didn't answer. She stuffed the photo into her pocket, her mind racing.
Lucius wasn't just targeting random victims. He was coming for her, and he was making it personal.