The night felt heavier than before, like London itself was holding its breath. Angelo stood by the hotel window, watching the street below. Cars passed. People laughed. Life moved on—too normally—for a city hiding this many secrets.

Henry sat on the bed, turning the numbers over in his head. “5993,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t just a code. It was a message.”

“A reminder,” Angelo replied. “That someone knows where we’ve been.”

They didn’t need to say the café’s name out loud. The memory of it lingered anyway—the order, the timing, the way it all lined up too perfectly to be a coincidence. Whatever this was, it wasn’t random. It was intentional.

A soft buzz broke the silence. Angelo checked his phone. No message. No missed call. Just static—then gone.

Henry frowned. “Do you feel that?”

“Yeah,” Angelo said. “Like we’re one step behind.”

Somewhere across the city, Lily sat alone in her room, staring at the newspaper folded on her desk. She didn’t open it. She couldn’t. Not yet. Questions pressed at her mind, ones she wasn’t ready to face—but deep down, she knew the truth was closer than it had ever been.

Back at the hotel, Angelo grabbed his coat. “We stop chasing clues,” he said. “From now on, we watch who’s watching us.”

Henry nodded. “And whoever left that code… they’re not done.”

Outside, the city lights flickered. A shadow moved at the end of the street, then disappeared.

The game had started long ago.

They were only just realizing it.