Chapter 103

~CAMI~

The storm hadn’t left the city so much as it had seeped into its bones. Streets gleamed under lamplights, the pavement slick. My reflection followed me in every puddle; hair damp, eyes hollow, jaw clenched. I hated the way I looked. I hated the way I felt.

But most of all, I hated the way Brian’s voice still echoed in me. We’re bound. That’s not a lie.

My nails dug into my palms as I walked faster, the chill cutting through my coat. He didn’t get to say things like that. Not after everything. Not after what his dad had done to me. Not after his lies. I should have shot him. Should have ended it clean, cut him out of my life the way I’d cut out every other ghost.

And yet, I hadn’t.

My steps slowed when I reached the corner of Market Street, where a makeshift memorial still sat outside a shuttered bar. Candles burned low, their wax spilling over glass jars. Flowers wilted, plastic wrappers fluttering in the wind. Another victim’s name scrawled across cardboard, another family broken.

I crouched, brushing my fingers against the edge of one candle. The wax was warm, barely holding on. Just like me.

He was out there again. The killer. Moving like smoke through the veins of this city, choosing victims that made no sense until you looked closer, until you saw the precision. The profiler had said it was about legacy. That word rattled in my head. Legacy. Blood. Connection.

I closed my eyes, and the memories came uninvited. My father’s face. The night it all ended. His body on the ground. The taste of iron in the air, sharp and metallic, coating my throat until I couldn’t scream anymore. 

I snapped my eyes open, forcing the images back. I swore I would never be that girl again. I swore I would never let grief own me.

A voice pulled me out of the spiral. “Cami.”

I turned sharply, hand at my hip where my weapon rested. Sergeant Lyndsey stood in the glow of a lamppost, his eyes sharp as ever.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I muttered, straightening.

“You were miles away.” Lyndsey stepped closer, gaze flicking to the candles. “Another one. That makes three this month.”

“Three too many.” My voice was low, edged with anger. “And we’re no closer to stopping him.”

Lyndsey studied me, his silence pressing. He had a way of watching without judgment, of waiting until you filled the air yourself. It drove me insane.

“I saw him tonight,” I admitted finally.

His brows lifted. “Brian?”

I nodded, jaw tightening. “He’s circling the same shadows I am. He’s hiding something, Lyndsey. I can feel it.”

“You’ve always felt it.”

He’s not wrong. From the first moment I’d looked into his eyes, I’d known Brian was keeping something locked behind them. Something dark. Something that mattered.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, needing the anchor. “He says we’re bound. Like it means something.”

Lyndsey’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, not quite pity. “Doesn’t it?”

I bristled. “Don’t start with that.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying… sometimes the people we hate most are the ones who carry pieces of us we don’t want to admit exist.”

His words hit deeper than I wanted them to. I pushed past him, the air colder now, heavier. “I don’t need philosophy. I need facts. I need leads. I need to put this killer down before he leaves another body in the river.”

We walked in silence for a while, the city restless around us. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. A couple argued across the street, their voices sharp and brittle, carried by the wind. The city lived and breathed its chaos, and I carried it in my chest.

“You think Brian’s involved?” Lyndsey asked finally.

“I think Brian’s hiding the truth. Maybe not about the killings. But about something else. Something that ties back to me.”

He knows more than he’s saying. He’s watching me, circling me, keeping me close enough to burn but not close enough to see his scars. And I hate that it works. I hate that part of me still listens to his voice when he’s not there.

We stopped at the river’s edge. Crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, brittle and torn. The water moved sluggishly, black and unforgiving.

I stared into it, my reflection breaking apart in ripples. “I don’t know how much more I can take of this.”

Lyndsey’s hand touched my arm, brief but grounding. “You’ve taken worse.”

But not like this. Not while I’m walking in the shadows, tethered by something I can’t name.

I pulled away gently, needing space. “Go home, Lyndsey. Get some rest. I’ll keep looking.”

“You should rest too,” he reminded.

I shook my head. “Can’t.”

He didn’t argue. He knew better. With a nod, he turned and left me standing at the water’s edge, the night pressing in.

Alone again, I let myself breathe. Just once. Just enough to stop shaking.

Brian’s hiding something and I'd find out what!

But even as I said it to myself, the image of his face rose in my mind. The way he’d looked at me on the docks…not with hate, not even with pity, but with something far worse. Something that felt like truth.

And for one terrifying second, I wondered if maybe Lyndsey was right.