It's almost midnight when the phone rings, breaking the eerie silence that's hung over the precinct for the past few hours. The call comes in on my personal line. I don't recognize the number. My gut tightens. I've been waiting for this, expecting it, but it's still a shock when I pick up the phone.
"Miles Kane," I say, my voice steady, though I can feel the tension crawling under my skin.
A cold laugh comes through the line, sending a shiver up my spine. "Detective Kane, we've been getting so close, haven't we?"
I feel my grip tighten on the phone. I know this voice. Not from a case or a crime scene—but I know it from something deeper. Something personal.
"Who is this?" My voice cracks slightly, despite my best efforts to sound firm.
"You've been chasing shadows, Miles," the voice continues, smooth and almost taunting. "But I'm not a shadow. I'm real. I'm right here." There's a pause. "You've been running after me without even realizing it."
My heart thuds in my chest. Every part of me screams to hang up, but my instincts are holding me in place, urging me to stay on the line. This isn't just another lead. This is the lead.
"Why are you doing this?" I demand, my voice shaking slightly.
Another laugh, darker this time. "Because you need to understand. You need to feel it too."
And then, without warning, they launch into it.
The killer speaks in broken sentences, as if they've been waiting for this moment their whole life. A confession—an explanation. They paint a picture of their past, one that feels like a mirror to my own broken memories.
"I was 25," they say, their voice taking on a distant, almost haunting tone. "And that's when it happened. That's when I understood. Betrayal. The world is full of it, and I learned it all too well. You understand, don't you, Detective? You've been there too. At 25, the pain—the loss—hits differently. It's when you realize that nothing in life is guaranteed. Everything you thought you could trust is just a lie."
I swallow hard, feeling the blood drain from my face. 25. It's not just a number for them. It's the number. A painful, pivotal year that shifted everything. I've been fixated on that age, that arbitrary point in time, but now it feels more sinister, more intentional.
"I was betrayed by someone I trusted," the voice continues, their tone dripping with venom. "And I've spent every moment since then, every day of my life, trying to make others understand that pain. You feel it too, don't you, Detective? That same pain? You've been running from it, but you can't escape it. Not now."
My breath catches in my throat. They know. Somehow, they know about my brother, Damon. I've spent years pretending the past didn't hurt. I've buried it, shut it away like some dark secret. But the killer? They're pulling it out of me, piece by piece.
"I watched you, Miles," they continue. "I watched you because you're just like me. At 25, you lost something too, didn't you? Something precious. And now, you're chasing me, trying to make sense of this madness, but you're just running in circles. You can't stop me. You can't stop what I'm doing."
My mind spins, scrambling to make sense of it. "Who are you?" I force out, my voice rough with disbelief. "Who the hell are you?"
"You'll know soon enough," they respond, their voice colder now, almost final. "But understand this—what I'm doing isn't just a game. It's not random. I need you to feel this. The pain of betrayal. The loss. It's the only thing that makes sense anymore. It's the only thing that ever will."
The phone goes silent.
I sit there for what feels like an eternity, my breath shallow, my heart racing. The confession has shaken me to my core. It wasn't just about killing. It was about something deeper. Understanding. The killer isn't just hurting people—they're trying to force the world to understand their pain. To feel it the way they felt it. At 25, the world shattered for them. And now, they're shattering the world for others.
---
I can feel the weight of the confession hanging over me. Every word they spoke lingers in my head like a dark echo. Betrayal. Loss. The pain of 25. It's all too familiar.
I rub my eyes, trying to push away the growing sense of dread, but I can't. The pieces are starting to fit together in a way that makes my skin crawl. I start thinking back to old cases, faces, names that I'd forgotten—people I knew once.
My mind flashes back to a case from years ago, a case I thought was closed. A person I once worked with, someone who seemed to vanish overnight. A betrayal so deep, it burned a hole in my soul. What if it was them? What if the killer is someone I've known all along? Someone I trusted? Someone who saw the same things I did at 25?
My pulse quickens as the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Could it be? Could the killer really be someone from my past? Someone I once worked with? Someone who's been hiding in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to strike?
---
I turn to Vera, who's sitting nearby, watching me closely, waiting for me to say something. But the words won't come. My mind is too tangled, too full of questions I don't want to face.
"Vera," I say finally, my voice strained. "This isn't just about age. It's about something... deeper. This killer, they're not a stranger. They're someone who's been in my life. Someone I thought I knew."
She raises an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"
"I think I know who they are." My voice falters for a second. "But I don't know how to prove it."
---
The confession has cracked something open inside me. The killer isn't just someone to catch—they're someone who's been with me all along. And now, as I step deeper into this dark, twisted labyrinth of pain and betrayal, I can feel the walls closing in. Every moment I hesitate brings me closer to them. But can I stop them before they make the next move?
The hunt has become personal. And the only question left is—am I ready to face the monster from my past? Or will I become just another piece in their twisted confession?