Chapter 43

Ariel’s scream echoed through the apartment like a siren.

Nathaniel was at the bathroom door in seconds, his gun drawn before the sound had even finished bouncing off the tiles.

“Ariel?” his voice cut through the running water. “What happened?”

“Stay back!” she gasped, pressing her back against the wall, trembling, one hand gripping the towel on the rack. “Don’t—just don’t come in!”

Nathaniel froze outside. “Are you hurt?”

Ariel swallowed hard, staring at the pale, severed finger lying by the drain. Its nail was painted a dull pink, chipped at the edges. She felt bile rise in her throat. “There’s… there’s a finger,” she whispered.

“What?” Nathaniel kicked the door open. The sight stopped him cold.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The steam from the shower curled around them like smoke, the sound of dripping water mingling with Ariel’s ragged breathing. Nathaniel crouched beside the finger, his expression tightening.

“Fresh,” he muttered. “No more than a few hours old.”

Ariel’s skin prickled. “How the hell did that end up here?”

Nathaniel didn’t answer immediately. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, lifted the finger gently, inspecting it with a frown. “Female,” he said flatly. “Small. Could be early twenties.”

Ariel turned her face away, disgust written across her expression. “This doesn’t make any sense. I locked every door when you weren't home. There’s no sign of forced entry.”

Nathaniel stood up, his eyes darkening. “Then whoever left this wanted you to find it.”

The words hit her like a slap. “You mean… they were here, while I—” she choked on the thought, gripping the towel tighter. “While I was home?”

Nathaniel’s jaw flexed. “Yes.”

Ariel stumbled out of the bathroom, her bare feet padding quickly across the cold floor. She grabbed her robe and threw it on with shaky hands. “This isn’t possible. I checked everything. Every window—”

He followed her into the room, scanning every corner. “Maybe it wasn’t about getting in,” he said. “Maybe it was about leaving a message.”

Ariel turned sharply. “A message?”

Nathaniel met her gaze, his voice low. “He’s watching you.”

For a moment, all Ariel could hear was her own heartbeat. The memory of Michael’s warning—Stay away from him—flashed like lightning in her head. She forced herself to stay calm, but her thoughts were in confusion.

She crossed to her desk, fumbling for her phone. “I’ll call it in—get forensics here.”

Nathaniel didn’t stop her, but his expression said more than words. He didn’t trust anyone—not after what happened with the department leaks.

Ariel dialed the station anyway. Before she could speak, the line crackled and went dead.

“What the hell—” she muttered, staring at the screen. “No signal?”

Nathaniel pulled his own phone out and checked. “Mine’s dead too.”

They both looked toward the window. The streetlight outside flickered once… then went dark.

Ariel felt her breath catch. “The power—?”

Nathaniel’s voice dropped an octave. “It’s not just power. Look.”

He pointed at the hallway. The door that led to the living room stood ajar, though Ariel was certain she’d closed it earlier. Slowly, the door creaked wider on its hinges.

Ariel’s pulse hammered. “Nathaniel…”

He raised a finger to his lips and moved silently toward the door. Ariel followed, heart in her throat, clutching the edge of her robe.

The living room was dimly lit by the dying glow of the street outside. Everything seemed in place—except for the faint scent of iron in the air. Blood.

Nathaniel crouched by the carpet. “There’s a trail,” he whispered. He traced a dark line barely visible against the fabric—small, almost wiped clean.

“Someone was here,” Ariel breathed.

“Not was.” Nathaniel’s tone hardened. “Is.”

A sound—a faint metallic clatter—came from the kitchen.

They both froze.

Nathaniel motioned her behind him and edged closer, gun raised. The tension was unbearable; even the air felt heavier. He reached the kitchen doorway, took a breath, and swung around the corner.

Empty.

The window was open just enough for someone to slip through.

Nathaniel holstered his gun and leaned over the sink. The cool night air blew in. On the counter lay something small and gleaming.

A silver cross pendant.

Nathaniel looked closer, “That’s—”

“James’s,” Ariel finished grimly. “He used to wear it.” her stomach twisted. “He was here.”

Ariel backed away, pressing her hand to her mouth, trying to piece the puzzle together. “The severed finger, the pendant—it’s like someone’s playing both sides.”

Nathaniel nodded. “James is trying to play mind games with us.”

They stood there for a long moment, neither speaking. The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator and Ariel’s unsteady breathing.

Finally, Nathaniel spoke. “We need to get out of here. If this is connected to the murders, you maybe next on his list.”

Ariel’s gaze hardened. “I’m not running. If he wanted to scare me, he’ll have to try harder.”

Nathaniel gave a faint, humorless smile. “That stubbornness of yours is going to get you killed.”

“Then stay,” she snapped, meeting his eyes. “If you’re so concerned, help me end this.”

He studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded once. “Alright. But we do this my way.”

The rain started minutes later, drumming softly against the windows as they cleared the living room. Ariel taped off the bathroom, leaving the finger untouched. Nathaniel paced, calling in favors on his secure radio line.

No response.

“It’s like someone jammed the entire block,” he muttered.

Ariel sat at her board again, staring at the web of photos and red string. Her mind raced—James’s cross, the timing of the attack, the fact that Nathaniel showed up just after Michael left. Nothing added up cleanly.

She looked at him, standing by the window, his silhouette lit by faint lightning. “Nathaniel,” she said softly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He turned, his eyes dark, “What do you mean?”

“You knew exactly how fresh that finger was. You knew it was female before checking twice. You noticed the scent of blood faster than I did. That’s not just detective instinct.”

Nathaniel held her gaze. “You think I did this?”

“I think,” Ariel said slowly, “that you’re hiding something.”

The silence between them was suffocating.

Nathaniel finally exhaled, “I’m not your enemy, Ariel. But there are things you don’t want to know. Not yet.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”

He stepped closer, “If I tell you, you won’t trust me again.”

“Then you’d better make me believe you,” she whispered.

Nathaniel’s lips parted like he was about to speak—

but then the lights flickered once more.

A loud crash came from the door.

They both spun toward it as a shadow slipped past the crack beneath the frame.

Ariel reached for her gun. Nathaniel moved first, grabbing her wrist. “No—”

The door exploded inward, splintering against the wall.

A masked figure stood in the doorway, drenched in rain, a long blade glinting in his hand. The dim light caught the edge of his smile.

Nathaniel shoved Ariel behind him and raised his weapon.

“Get down!” he barked—

And the room was filled with the sound of a loud gunshot.