The precinct was unusually quiet when Detective Liora Blackwell returned. The low hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the empty desks. The late hour had drained the building of its usual energy, leaving behind only the muffled shuffling of papers and the occasional ring of a distant phone. Liora welcomed the silence; her mind was already a battlefield, and she didn't need the added noise.
Her boots echoed faintly as she crossed the tiled floor, her coat still damp and heavy from the night's rain. She made her way to her desk, a cluttered space barely lit by the desk lamp she'd left on. Folders were stacked haphazardly, and a cold cup of coffee sat forgotten next to her laptop. The caseboard behind her was a chaotic tapestry of photographs, maps, and notes—all tied together by red string that mapped the connections only she could decipher.
At the center of it all was Lucius Darnell's face, his enigmatic smile staring back at her like a taunt. Beneath him were the pawns—the Sinbound Killer, Davian Harker, and others whose names had surfaced over the past few months. Each one was a link in a chain that led to the man she couldn't catch. And now, a new string dangled in her mind, unattached but persistent: The Architect.
She dropped into her chair, exhaustion threatening to pull her under. But the night's events demanded her attention. Davian's cryptic words, the hallucinatory encounter with Lucius, and the growing realization that she was part of something far larger than she'd imagined—it all churned in her thoughts like a storm.
Reaching for her laptop, she began typing up her report. Each word felt heavier than the last, as though documenting the night made it more real, more inescapable. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard as she tried to describe the distortion in the alley. How could she explain something so unquantifiable? The way the walls seemed to breathe, the whispers that clawed at the edges of her sanity, the fleeting visions that felt more real than the ground beneath her feet—none of it fit neatly into a police report.
Her eyes flicked to the clock on her monitor. It was past midnight, yet she knew sleep would be a distant dream. Instead, she reached for her notebook, the worn leather cover cool against her fingers. Flipping it open, she found the sketch she'd made earlier: a crude rendition of the circle of runes she'd seen in the vision. The symbols felt familiar, though she couldn't place why. They tugged at her memory like half-forgotten words on the tip of her tongue.
"Detective Blackwell," a voice interrupted, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Officer Reilly standing in the doorway, his face a mixture of concern and curiosity. "There's someone here to see you."
Liora frowned. "At this hour? Who?"
"He didn't give a name," Reilly replied, shifting uncomfortably. "Just said it was urgent."
Her instincts flared, a mix of curiosity and caution. "Where is he?"
Reilly gestured toward the interrogation rooms. "I put him in Room 3."
Liora stood, grabbing her notepad and holstering her weapon out of habit. The precinct's sterile air felt colder as she walked toward the interrogation rooms, her steps measured. Room 3's door was slightly ajar, and through the narrow gap, she caught a glimpse of the man inside. He sat hunched over the metal table, his hands clasped tightly, his head bowed as though in prayer.
She pushed the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind her. The man looked up, and Liora immediately noted the gauntness of his face, the wild look in his eyes. His clothes were disheveled, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on the table.
"Detective Blackwell," he said, his voice strained but urgent. "I've been waiting for you."
Liora pulled out a chair and sat across from him, her gaze steady. "You've got my attention. Who are you?"
"My name doesn't matter," he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. "What matters is what I know. What I've seen."
Her eyes narrowed. "And what have you seen?"
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I worked for him. For Lucius. I was one of his... messengers."
The admission sent a ripple through her, though she didn't let it show. "Go on."
The man's hands tightened into fists. "He's not what you think he is. He's more than a man. He... he plays with reality like it's a game. He makes you see things, believe things. He gets into your head, twists it until you don't know what's real anymore."
Liora's mind raced, her thoughts connecting to the night's events. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I got out!" the man said, his voice cracking. "I ran. I hid. But it doesn't matter—he'll find me. He always does."
"Then why risk coming here?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind.
He hesitated, his eyes darting around the room as though expecting Lucius to materialize at any moment. "Because it's not just him. There's... there's someone else. Someone worse. Lucius answers to them."
Liora's breath caught. "Who?"
"I don't know their name," the man admitted, his voice trembling. "But I've heard the whispers. They call them The Architect. They're the one pulling the strings, the one setting all this in motion."
The room seemed to grow colder, the air heavier. Liora leaned back in her chair, her mind a whirlwind of questions. The Architect—another shadow in an already dark game. But why? And what did they want?
Before she could press him further, the man's body stiffened. His eyes widened in terror, his mouth opening as though to scream, but no sound came out. He clutched at his throat, his movements jerky and desperate.
"Hey!" Liora shouted, jumping to her feet. "Reilly! Get in here!"
But it was too late. The man collapsed onto the table, his body convulsing once before going still. Liora stared in shock as a thin trail of black smoke rose from his mouth, dissipating into the air.
She clenched her fists, her jaw tightening. Lucius—or worse, The Architect—had silenced him. But the warning was clear: she was no longer chasing a single man. She was stepping into a war against forces far beyond her comprehension.
And she wasn't sure she could win.
" Thanks for the support, it's our 10th chapter, well currently we are not getting any attention but still I've a hope people start reading my book."