CHAPTER 5: "The Name Behind the Smoke"
The office was dead quiet, lit only by the soft blue glow of computer screens. Mateo leaned over Camila's desk, eyes scanning the files she'd gathered.
"Two more fire-related deaths in the past year," Camila murmured, flipping through photos. "One in Brooklyn. Another in Queens. Both families wiped out."
"Same burn patterns," Mateo added. "Gasoline accelerant. Targeted. Every time."
Camila clicked to the next screen.
A blurry surveillance image. A tall man in a hood, face barely visible.
Then came the name.
JACK.
Camila exhaled slowly. "Jack's been hiding in plain sight. No prints. No direct connections. But his victims? Always women. Sometimes with families. It's not random."
Mateo's face darkened. "And you think you're next."
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she opened a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket.
A single word scrawled in jagged handwriting:
"Soon."
Left on her desk this morning.
"He's watching," she whispered.
Mateo stepped closer. "You're not doing this alone, Camila."
Her eyes met his, fierce but clouded. "I don't want him coming for anyone else. I don't care what it takes—I'm ending this."
---
Time Shift – 10:07 PM – Midtown Convenience Store
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Camila stepped into the quiet little corner store, rubbing the back of her neck, exhaustion sinking into her bones. She had barely eaten all day.
She moved through the aisles with heavy steps, grabbing a bottle of juice before wandering toward the noodle section.
There it was.
Her favorite brand of spicy ramen—sitting way too high on the top shelf.
Camila stood on her toes, stretching, fingers grazing the edge of the packet.
She muttered under her breath, "I swear they do this on purpose…"
Suddenly, a shadow fell over her from behind.
A tall frame. Quiet. Solid.
Then a voice—low, cold, and much too close.
"You want this?"
She froze.
Her head turned slowly.
It was him.
Samuel.
Wearing a black hoodie again, hands in his pockets. Hair tousled. Boots scuffed. A quiet, unreadable expression on his face.
His eyes were darker than she remembered—like shadows that didn't move.
Camila nodded once, stunned.
He reached above her with effortless ease, grabbed the ramen, and handed it to her without a word.
Their hands brushed.
A spark of ice raced through her.
Camila was suddenly very aware of how small she was compared to him. She wore an oversized T-shirt, jeans, boots, and zero confidence at the moment. She felt like a mess standing next to someone who looked like he belonged in a movie—and maybe a prison lineup.
"Thanks," she muttered, not daring to look up again.
Samuel didn't move.
He simply looked at her—for a moment longer than was necessary.
Unblinking.
Then, without saying anything else, he stepped past her and walked to the back of the store.
She stood there, clutching the noodles like they were sacred.
What were the odds?
Why was he here again?
Who was he?
Camila turned her head slightly, trying to steal one last glance—
But he was gone.
Just like before.
---
TO BE CONTINUED…