Chapter 128: Beneath the Surface

I woke to the sound of rain, the steady rhythm against the roof pulling me from restless dreams. The room was bathed in soft gray light, the kind that blurred the line between day and night. For a moment, I lay there, trying to grasp the remnants of my dream, but they slipped through my fingers like water.

The weight of the note still lingered in my mind. It had been hours since London left, but the words stayed etched into my thoughts: “Not everyone can be saved. Choose wisely.”

I sat up, rubbing my temples, willing the anxiety to fade. A part of me wanted to believe London’s reassurance, but another part—a darker, more cynical part—couldn’t shake the feeling that the note was more than a scare tactic. It felt like a warning.

The rain was heavier now, the sound filling the room as I pulled on a sweater and made my way downstairs. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt alive, as though it were holding its breath.

In the kitchen, I found London leaning against the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He looked up when I entered, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of concern and something else—something softer.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“So are you,” I countered, crossing the room to grab a mug.

He watched me in silence as I poured my coffee, the tension between us unspoken but palpable. Finally, he set his cup down and crossed his arms.

“Did you sleep at all?”

I shook my head, taking a sip of coffee before answering. “Not really. You?”

“Barely,” he admitted. “I kept thinking about the note.”

I glanced at him, surprised. London was usually so composed, so unshakable. Seeing him this unsettled made the knot in my stomach tighten.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I think whoever wrote that note wants us to doubt ourselves. They’re trying to make us second-guess every decision, every move.”

“And it’s working,” I said bitterly, setting my mug down harder than I intended.

London stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding. “We can’t let it. Whoever they are, they want us distracted. They want us scared.”

“I’m not scared,” I lied, my voice sharper than I intended.

London raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t call me out on it. Instead, he rested a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but gentle.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Milli,” he said softly.

I looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes cutting through the walls I’d been building. For a moment, I considered telling him the truth—that I was scared, that the weight of everything was pressing down on me harder than I wanted to admit. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, I nodded, offering a weak smile. “I know.”

He studied me for a moment longer, as if trying to gauge whether I was being honest. Then he stepped back, his hand falling away.

“Let’s focus on what we can control,” he said. “The note is a distraction. We have bigger things to deal with.”

I nodded, grateful for the change in subject. “Have you heard anything from Tasha?”

London shook his head, his expression darkening. “Not yet, but I’ve got people keeping an eye on her. She’s safe for now.”

The mention of Tasha brought a fresh wave of worry crashing over me. She’d been through so much already, and the thought of her being dragged back into danger was almost too much to bear.

“We need to move quickly,” I said. “Whoever’s behind this won’t wait forever.”

London nodded, his jaw tightening. “Agreed. I’ve already started making arrangements. We’ll need to be careful, though. One wrong move…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The implications were clear.

The rain continued to fall outside, the sound a constant reminder of the storm brewing both inside and out. I sipped my coffee, my mind racing as I tried to piece together a plan.

“We need to figure out who’s behind this,” I said, breaking the silence.

London glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “And when we do?”

“We stop them,” I said firmly.

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But we do it together.”

His words hung in the air, a quiet promise that I clung to even as doubt gnawed at the edges of my resolve.

The rain was lighter now, the rhythm softening as the day slowly began to take shape. I looked out the window, the world beyond the glass a blur of gray and green.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself a moment of hope. It was fragile, tentative, but it was there.

“We’ll figure this out,” London said, his voice pulling me back to the present.

I turned to him, offering a small smile. “Yeah. We will.”

And for the first time, I almost believed it.