The elevator was dead. The hallway lights flickered. The building smelled of damp drywall and fear.
Aria stood just inside the door of her ruined apartment, frozen. The destruction looked worse now, quieter, more intimate somehow. Like ghosts of the attackers still lingered in the corners, breathing down her neck.
Caspian stepped in right behind her—so close the warmth of his chest brushed her back. He didn't touch her. He didn't have to. His presence wrapped around her like a shadow with teeth.
Rafael swept the rooms. "Clear. For now."
For now.
Aria's throat tightened.
Caspian closed the door quietly behind them, his jaw locked tight enough to crack bone. Rain dripped from his hair onto the wooden floor.
"Get the notebook," he said softly.
Not a demand.
An anchor.
Aria nodded, moving toward her bedroom—if it could still be called one. The mattress was gutted. Clothes shredded. Books torn straight through the spine.
The destruction wasn't random.
Someone had been looking for something very specific.
She kneeled beside her desk drawer. The notebook sat exactly where she had found it earlier, as if someone had placed it back deliberately.
Too deliberately.
A chill slid down her spine.
Caspian appeared beside her, silent as a breath. He looked down at the notebook like it was a bomb ticking in her hands.
"Let's see it."
She opened the cover.
Rafael leaned on the doorway. "Anything missing?"
Aria frowned. "It looks… the same."
But something felt off.
She flipped to a page she remembered—a half-written recipe her mother used as a cover note.
Except now…
Her breath stopped.
She touched the torn edge of the paper.
"Caspian," she whispered. "A page is missing."
Caspian crouched instantly. His fingers traced the jagged tear. His eyes darkened into something lethal.
"Someone came back," he said slowly. "After we left."
Rafael cursed under his breath. "Shadow?"
"No," Caspian said. "He doesn't take pieces. He takes everything."
A knot twisted in Aria's stomach. "Then who—"
"Someone who knew exactly what they wanted," Caspian finished.
Silence pressed in.
Aria turned the page carefully, her breath trembling.
Numbers.
Columns.
Initials.
A list of dates.
Her mother's looping handwriting drifted across the top of the page:
If he finds you, don't trust him.
Aria's throat closed. "She… she wrote the same thing in the note I found."
The room tilted slightly. She forced air into her lungs.
"Caspian… she was talking about you."
His reaction wasn't anger.
It was stillness.
Dangerous, horrible stillness.
Rafael's eyes flicked between them. "She didn't know him, Aria. She only knew what she was told."
Caspian didn't speak.
His gaze stayed locked on the page, frozen, like he had been hurled back into a memory he didn't want.
Aria swallowed. "What are these numbers?"
Caspian's jaw clenched.
"I've seen something like this before."
Rafael stiffened. "Don't."
"We can't keep hiding it," Caspian snapped softly. "Not anymore."
Aria looked from one man to the other. "Hiding what?"
Caspian took the notebook from her slowly, carefully, like touching it hurt.
"These numbers… they're timestamps. Coordinates. Meeting logs."
"Of what?" Aria whispered.
His eyes lifted to hers.
Of secrets.
Of grief.
Of betrayal.
"My father's investigation," he said. "The one Isabella died for."
Aria's chest tightened painfully. "You think my mother was part of it?"
"I think someone wanted her to be," Caspian said. "And she ran when she realized what she stepped into."
"And what did she step into?" Aria asked.
"Something I'm still trying to dismantle," he said softly. "Piece by piece."
The honesty in his voice sliced her wide open.
Aria let out a shaking breath. "Then tell me everything."
He didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
He just stared at her like she was asking him to open his skull and hand her every fear he'd ever buried.
Rafael cleared his throat. "I'll give you two a minute." He stepped out.
Aria's pulse thudded.
Caspian stayed crouched in front of her, rainwater dripping from his hair, blood smeared on his sleeve, hands shaking just slightly.
He held the notebook between them like a confession.
Aria's voice cracked. "Why won't you tell me the truth?"
He lifted his gaze slowly.
Because it hurts.
Because it breaks him.
Because it risks her.
His voice came low and rough: "I'm trying to protect you."
She leaned closer, fire rising under her ribs. "From what? From you?"
His expression twisted. "Aria…"
"No," she whispered fiercely. "I'm done being shut out. I'm done being handled. I'm done being protected from my own life."
Caspian's breath hitched. "I'm protecting you from mine."
The words hit the floor like gunfire.
Her chest tightened. "Then let me decide if I want to be part of it."
He looked away.
She grabbed his wrist gently.
"Caspian."
He flinched—not from pain, but from her touch.
Lightning cracked outside.
Rain pounded harder.
He whispered, "If you knew the truth, you'd run."
She stepped forward. "I'm still here."
His eyes snapped to hers.
And something in him—
broke.
His hand rose, slow and trembling, brushing a wet strand of hair off her cheek. His thumb lingered near her jaw, a breath away from her lips.
"Aria," he whispered. "If I touch you again tonight, I won't stop."
Her breath trembled. "Then don't stop."
His throat bobbed once.
He leaned in—
then jerked back violently as something slipped from between the notebook pages.
A photograph.
It fluttered to the floor.
Aria froze.
Rafael rushed back. "What happened?"
The photo landed faceup.
Aria's mother.
Younger.
Standing in a hallway Aria didn't recognize.
Holding a baby.
A baby that wasn't Aria.
A cold wave crashed through her.
"What… what is this?"
Caspian picked up the photo with trembling fingers. His face went white, then darker than she had ever seen.
"This changes everything," he muttered.
Aria's pulse thudded in her ears. "Who is that baby?"
Rafael took a step back. "Caspian…"
Caspian didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Aria grabbed his arm. "Tell me."
"Aria…" His voice broke. "I don't know yet."
But he did.
She saw it in his eyes.
He knew exactly what this meant.
He just didn't want her to.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
All three heads snapped up.
Caspian rose in one smooth, deadly motion, gun out, eyes burning.
Rafael tensed beside him.
Aria's heartbeat turned to static.
Another creak.
Soft.
Deliberate.
A shadow moved beneath the door.
Caspian shoved Aria behind him so fast her breath caught.
"Stay back," he whispered.
Aria's pulse skyrocketed.
Three slow knocks tapped the door.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Aria's blood ran ice-cold.
She knew that rhythm.
That exact pattern.
Her knees almost buckled. "No… please no…"
Caspian aimed. "Who is it?"
A voice drifted through the wood.
Female.
Soft.
Broken.
"Aria… sweetheart?"
Her world spun.
Rafael's eyes blew wide. "No way. That can't—"
Caspian's expression darkened into pure, lethal fury.
The doorknob twisted.
No blackout.
No fade-out.
Just the shattering truth—
and the door slowly opening.