The next day, Lena woke up feeling… off.

Not just tired—she could handle being tired—but off in that insidious way that suggested the universe had already queued up a string of minor disasters, each designed to erode her patience one paper cut at a time.

She rolled onto her side and groaned, burying her face into her pillow. Her alarm clock glowed faintly on the nightstand. Five minutes. She had five minutes before it went off.

Then came the sound.

A wet, unmistakable retching noise. Lena shot upright. “Ugh—Skye!”

She stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over a pile of cat toys as she made her way into the hallway. Sure enough, Skye stood beside the rug, looking utterly unapologetic as a small, unfortunate mess spread across the floor.

“Why,” Lena groaned, crouching down to grab paper towels, “is it always the rug? You have an entire hardwood floor to choose from.”

Skye meowed, tail flicking, and sat down like a queen who had simply issued a decree. Lena sighed, her irritation melting into something softer. 

“I know, I know. Your stomach isn’t what it used to be.” She gently wiped the floor, then turned to her cat with a resigned smile. 

“I’m sorry, old girl. I’ll pick you up some better food on my way home, alright?”

Skye bumped her head against Lena’s knee and meowed again, utterly unconcerned.

Lena huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Thought so.”

By the time she was dressed and out the door, the earlier sense of dread had settled into her bones like a cold. The sky was gray, the air thick, and her coffee tasted weaker than usual. A perfect omen.

When she arrived at the office, she barely had time to badge in before Adebayo’s voice cut through the lobby.

“Ms. Cross. Come with me.”

Lena froze mid-step. Adebayo was standing near the entrance—hands clasped behind her back, posture ramrod straight. For once, she wasn’t buried in paperwork or locked away in her office.

“Uh—yes, ma’am,” Lena said, startled, falling into step beside her.

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing through the corridor. Once upon a time, this would’ve made Lena’s stomach twist into knots. Now, it barely registered.

Adebayo closed the office door behind them and gestured for Lena to sit. She poured two cups of coffee and slid one across the desk.

“You did well once again,” Adebayo said, her tone measured. “You were able to hold back your emotions on this previous case. Well done, Ms. Cross.”

Lena stared down at the coffee. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Adebayo’s eyes.

Not because she was afraid. But because she didn’t feel the same.

She wanted to scream. To rage. To demand more. To react the way Irina had when she claimed she would force Nikolai to confess, when she swore she would yank the truth out of him like a wound.

But she hadn’t. And she didn’t know why.

Maybe she was tired. Maybe she was numb. Maybe she was exhausted from living a life stitched together by tragedy after tragedy. Fighting for every victim took something out of her. Something she wasn’t sure she could keep losing forever.

“…I have another case for you, if you’re up to it.”

Lena blinked, her thoughts snapping back like a rubber band. 

“Yes? What is it?” Her voice came out higher than she intended, like she’d been caught falling asleep during a lecture.

Adebayo’s lips twitched. She reached into her desk and pulled out a folder, sliding it across the desk.

It was thin. Too thin.

More paperwork than photographs. That alone unsettled Lena. She opened it, scanning the first page as Adebayo spoke.

“On Valentine’s Day, 1998, two teenagers from Vail’s End, Washington—John Stewart and Penny Barnes—were found murdered in Mr. Stewart’s car at the local lover’s lane, Blackwater Ridge.”

Lena’s eyes flicked to the autopsy reports.

“Each of the victims had only one wound to the neck,” Adebayo continued, leaning back in her chair. “Death was instant.”

Lena flipped to the back of the folder. The photographs stared back at her.

John slumped against the driver’s seat, his head tilted unnaturally, a dark, precise wound on the right side of his neck.

Penny mirrored him in the passenger seat, her head tilted the opposite direction, the wound on the left side of her neck.Lena’s stomach dropped.

‘It’s like someone was sitting in the back seat,’ she thought, her jaw tightening. ‘Watching. Waiting.’

She stared at the photos longer than she should have, committing every detail to memory. The position of their hands. The slackness of their expressions. The eerie symmetry. Finally, she closed the folder and stood.

“I’ll take the case, Director.”

Her voice felt heavy, like it had to travel through molasses to reach the air. She turned toward the door, fingers wrapping around the knob—

“You can always tell me no, Ms. Cross.” Lena froze. Adebayo’s voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.

“I don’t know what you experience with your ability. Hell, I can barely even comprehend your reports half the time.” A faint, humorless huff of breath. “But I do know this: you are my star agent. And that means your mental state is of the utmost importance to me.”

Lena swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. She didn’t turn around. She was afraid that if she did, she’d see sympathy on Adebayo’s face—and that would be enough to break her.

She forced out a shaky breath, then turned her head just enough to offer a smile she didn’t feel.

“I’m fine, Director. These kids deserve justice.” The words tasted like iron. She left before Adebayo could say anything else.

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing her in with her thoughts. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as the elevator descended.

One tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away immediately, her jaw clenched.

“Stop it, Lena. Not at work,” she muttered under her breath.

She hated how deeply she felt everything. Hated how every case crawled under her skin and refused to leave. Sometimes, she wished she could turn it off. But then he flashed through her mind.

Shroud. A monster who had turned empathy into ash.

“I can’t—no, WON’T—become like him,” she whispered.

If caring too much kept her human, she would cling to it with everything she had.

The elevator dinged. The doors opened to chaos.

Hayes and Dahlia stood inches apart, locked in a silent standoff. Hayes looked like he hadn’t slept in days, dark circles under his eyes. Dahlia’s expression was unreadable, her posture rigid.

Colby hovered nearby, hands raised slightly like he was ready to intervene but also terrified of choosing the wrong side.

“What’s going on?” Lena asked. Dahlia opened her mouth, but Colby beat her to it.

“I s-saw her tr-trying to sn-sneak in the l-lab wi-without my per-permission and Hayes d-dragged her out,” he stammered, his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion.

“I wasn’t trying to sneak in,” Dahlia said flatly. Hayes scoffed. “Yeah? Explain why Colby found you in the back room under a tarp then!”

Dahlia didn’t answer. She just stared at him.

Lena sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

Dahlia’s eyes widened for a split second before her expression reset. Lena dropped her bag on her desk. “Figured as much.”

She turned to Dahlia fully.

“There’s a reason I haven’t divulged my secret to you,” Lena continued, her tone firm. “You’re too impulsive, too presumptuous, and honestly? I don’t trust you to keep a secret even to save your life.”

Hayes blinked, surprised by her bluntness.

“So please,” Lena added, “stick to your lane. And I promise to stick to mine.” She turned away, motioning for Colby to follow her.

“Come on, Colby. I know you need a nap.”

Colby nodded and shuffled after her, casting an apologetic glance at Dahlia as they entered the lab.

The door slid shut behind them, muffling the tension outside. Lena leaned back against a cabinet and groaned, staring at the ceiling.

“You think I was too harsh?” she asked quietly.

Colby sank into his chair. “A l-little bit,” he admitted, then shrugged. “B-but you n-needed to set bo-boundaries somet-time.”

Lena exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I guess.”

She pushed off the cabinet and walked toward the back room. The portal shimmered into existence, light bending around its edges like a living thing.

She stared at it, exhaustion settling over her shoulders like a weight.

“Be nice to me, old friend,” she murmured, stepping forward. “I could use some kindness today.”

The portal swallowed her whole.

To be continued…