Her phone sat untouched on the table, the unknown message still glowing on the screen.

"Elara Voss? This is regarding an old acquaintance. Please contact us."

She frowned, dragging the cup closer. No name. No details. Just enough mystery to gnaw at her mind.

She took a slow sip, trying to dismiss it. Probably another sales gimmick, or a scam. Nothing worth her time.

But the unease lingered.

An old acquaintance... who? She hadn’t stayed close to anyone. Not since her parents moved overseas last year.

They had begged her to come with them — a fresh start, a bigger life in another country. But Elara had stayed.

Brindlewood was the first place that ever felt like hers. No rushing between houses, no packing boxes, no strange cities. Here, everything was simple. Quiet.

Just the way she liked it.

Her eyes flicked back to the screen.

Maybe she should ignore it.

But her curiosity... was waking.

---

Far away, headlights cut through the wet road as Cassian leaned back in his seat, jaw tight. The GPS marked his destination: Brindlewood.

He glanced at the file in his hand — her photo, her name.

Elara Voss.

After so many years chasing shadows, there was finally something solid.

“Sir,” his driver said softly, “we’ll reach the town by sunrise.”

“Good.”

Cassian closed his eyes, resting his head against the seat.

Would she remember him?

Or worse... what if she had forgotten entirely?

---

Back in the apartment, Elara's phone buzzed again. This time, it rang.

She stared at the screen. Unknown number. The same one.

For a moment, she considered letting it ring.

But something — curiosity, or instinct — made her answer.

“Hello?”

Silence. Then a careful voice.

“Miss Voss? I work for someone who believes they’ve met you in the past. Would you be willing to meet and clear up a small matter?”

Elara gripped the cup tighter. “Who are you talking about?”

“I can’t give details over the phone. But... he’s on his way to Brindlewood.”

Her heart skipped.

“Look, if this is some scam—”

“It’s not.” The voice was calm. “Please — tomorrow, 10 AM. At the café across from your bookstore. He just wants to speak. Nothing more.”

The call ended.

Elara stared at the phone.

Who...?

She set the cup down slowly, mind whirring. Outside, the rain quickened, tapping harder against the glass.

Somewhere down the long highway, a car kept moving.

And in the back seat, Cassian Rhys opened his eyes.

Tomorrow was the day.