Chapter 87 87

Chapter 87 Part 2-Chapter 4
Morning didn’t come so much as it leaked in, thin, reluctant light creeping through the blinds like the sun wasn’t convinced Seattle deserved effort today. I sat on the edge of Cyne’s desk, nursing a mug of coffee that tasted like cardboard.

Raines stood in front of the small bulletin board, one hand braced on the wall as she stared at the pinned photos and notes with the intensity of someone memorizing the shape of her own grief. She looked exhausted. Real exhaustion. Not the kind you power through with caffeine and attitude. The kind that burrows into bone.

“You don’t have to do it today,” I murmured.

She didn’t turn. “I do.”

“You could wait until tomorrow,” I offered.

“I can’t.” Her fingers tightened around the marker she’d been holding. “The longer I keep showing up at that precinct pretending everything is fine, the more it feels like I’m lying to her. To Mara.”

That hit something raw in me, and I set my mug down, my fingers no longer steady.

She finally turned, shoulders slumping. “They’re going to ask why.”

“They’ll guess why,” I corrected. “And they’ll pretend not to know so the department doesn’t have a liability nightmare.”

Raines blinked. Then huffed out a humorless laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

I shrugged. “I’m rarely wrong.”

She pointed the marker at me. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying—” I began.

“Don’t,” she interrupted.

I lifted both hands in surrender.

Raines rubbed her forehead. “I’m going to shower before I go. I need to look like someone who hasn’t spent the past three weeks running on adrenaline and coffee grounds.”

A smile crept across my lips. “Good luck.”

She flipped me off halfheartedly on her way to the door.

When it clicked shut behind her, silence poured into the room again. Heavy. Familiar. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty, just…suspended.

I leaned back in Cyne’s chair and closed my eyes. Three weeks without him. Three weeks pretending the air didn’t feel thinner where he used to stand. Three weeks chasing shadows that didn’t add up until now. Everything had shifted.

Lineage. The word kept echoing through me like a pulse I couldn’t quiet. Cyne had looked at me when he’d said it, looked at me like he’d known, or suspected, or feared this was coming long before any of us caught up. And that terrified me more than anything the cult had done so far. Because Cyne didn’t fear things easily. But he feared this.

The soft vibration of my phone buzzed against the desk…a new text.

Unknown Number: We see you.

Ice threaded through my spine.

I typed back before logic could catch me.
Who is this?

No reply.

The air shifted in that same too-familiar way, the gentle pull of cold that wasn’t weather. The sensation of being observed by something without eyes. My breath caught. I looked toward the corner near Cyne’s desk. Nothing moved. But something was there. Not human. Not fully corporeal. A tether. Cyne’s tether.

“Where are you?” I whispered.

The cold thickened for one shaky heartbeat…just enough to brush against my arm. Then it was gone.

A knock sounded on the door so suddenly I nearly threw my phone. “Jesus!” I snapped, hand flying to my chest.

Raines poked her head back in, coat half-on. “I forgot my keys. What the hell happened to your face?”

I exhaled, forcing my pulse down. “Nothing. Just…thought you were the guy from last night coming back to hand-deliver more cult propaganda.”

“That better never happen again,” she muttered, snatching her keyring off the desk. “Okay, I’m actually going now. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“Define reckless,” I muttered.

“Anything you’re about to do,” she declared, then she shut the door behind her.

I sat there a long moment, staring at the window as the fog finally began to weaken. My hand drifted to the pendant in my pocket, fingers curling around the cold metal. “Countdown,” something inside me whispered. This feels like a countdown, I couldn’t help thinking. Not to danger, nor to death…but to revelation.

Two hours passed before Raines returned, slamming the door behind her with a gust of cold air. “That’s done,” she announced, tossing her badge and service weapon onto the desk. “Temporary leave. Effective immediately.”

“You okay?” I asked.

She shrugged. “No. But that’s not new.” Afterward, she collapsed onto the couch again. I pushed a mug of coffee toward her. She took it with a muttered thanks and a look that said she hadn’t processed any of this yet.

“So,” she said after a minute. “Now what? We ran the corridor twice. Nothing new. No symbols. No footprints. No mysterious cult members dropping by with friendly midnight threats.”

“You say that like you’re disappointed,” I joked.

“I am disappointed,” she returned. “If they’re going to haunt us, the least they could do is be consistent.”

I almost laughed. Almost. “We organize,” I finally grated out. “We figure out what lineage means. Why it’s tied to me, and why they want me specifically.”

Raines gestured at me with her mug. “Sponsor…no offense, but you’re not exactly ancient royal blood. You work a desk, eat ramen, and threaten vending machines when they steal your dollars.”

“I do not threaten vending machines,” I defended.

“You absolutely do,” she argued.

“Okay, once. And it ate my Twix,” I stated, giving in.

She winked at me. “Still counts.”

I smothered a smile with my hand. The moment passed quickly.

Silence swept back in, and restless, I reached out, I opening Cyne’s drawer, his personal one, the one he never let me touch. Slowly, carefully. Inside: a folded page. Old. Creased. The edges worn like someone had carried it too long in a pocket.

My brows knit. “What is this…?”

Raines leaned over. “You found something?”

I unfolded the paper. Not a note.  Not a document. A sketch. A woman.  

Her hair braided over one shoulder.  A pendant at her throat, the same pendant sitting in my pocket.

Raines whispered from beside me, “Holy shit.”

The resemblance wasn’t perfect. Not exact. But close enough that my throat dried.

“She looks like you,” Raines breathed. “Like…a lot like you.”

My stomach knotted. “Cyne drew this.”

“Why would he draw some random woman unless he…wait.” Raines pointed. “Look at the date.”

The bottom corner held a year: 1640.

My hand trembled. “Raines…this drawing is over a century old.”

Raines peered harder. “And she looks like you.”

I swallowed hard. “Lineage.”

Raines sat back like she’d been shoved. “Jesus Christ…”

I stared at the drawing again, my pulse hammering.

Who was this woman?  Why did Cyne draw her?  And why did she look like me, long before I existed?

“I think,” I whispered, “The mystery just started answering itself.”

Raines ran both hands over her face. “I need whiskey.”

I exhaled. “Same.”

We stared at the sketch, at the pendant, at the empty chair that still felt like it held Cyne’s weight. Something had shifted again, and this time, it wasn’t fear tightening its grip around my ribs…it was destiny.