Elias didn't believe in coincidences.
Mercer vanished.
Calloway was dead.
And the last thing either of them touched was a book no one was supposed to own.
The air in the office felt heavier now, thick with the scent of old paper and the metallic edge of something wrong. Evelyn took a slow step back, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.
"We need to call this in," she said, voice quiet.
Elias wasn't so sure. Official reports meant attention. Attention meant questions. And questions had a way of getting people killed.
Instead, he crouched beside Calloway's desk, scanning the scattered papers. Notes on ancient languages. Translations of forgotten dialects. Nothing immediately useful — until he spotted the book under Calloway's limp hand.
Carefully, he slid it out. The leather cover was old, cracked with age. The title had faded long ago, but the spine held a single marking — a symbol matching the ones in Mercer's photograph.
Elias exhaled. "Looks like Calloway wasn't just analyzing the cipher. He was reading it."
Evelyn leaned in. "Think he figured it out?"
Elias flipped through the pages, his eyes skimming the dense Latin script. About halfway through, he found something that didn't belong — a single sheet of lined notebook paper, shoved between the pages.
Calloway's handwriting. Hastily scrawled.
Not just a book. A key.
The cipher unlocks something — but not on paper.
If Mercer was right, it's still hidden. But they know.
They always know.
Elias clenched his jaw.
They always know.
A cold prickle ran down his spine.
Before he could say anything, the floor creaked outside the office.
Both of them froze.
Elias set the book down, hand instinctively going to his revolver. Evelyn's eyes flicked to the doorway.
Another step. Slow. Deliberate.
Someone was out there.
Elias moved first, crossing the room in three strides. He flattened himself against the wall beside the door, gun raised. Evelyn did the same on the opposite side, her breath controlled, quiet.
A shadow passed the frosted glass of the door.
Another pause.
Then—
The handle twisted.
Elias reacted instantly, yanking the door open. The figure outside barely had time to react before Elias grabbed them by the collar and shoved them against the wall.
A strangled yelp.
Elias frowned. "You?"
The young man — no older than twenty — struggled in his grip, rain-damp curls falling into his wide, terrified eyes. Round glasses. Ink stains on his fingers.
A student.
Evelyn stepped forward. "Damien?"
The kid stopped struggling, breathing hard. "P-Pierce?" He blinked at Elias, then at the gun. "Holy shit, don't shoot me!"
Elias loosened his grip. "Start talking."
Damien swallowed hard. "I—I work for Calloway. Research assistant." He glanced past them into the office, saw the slumped body at the desk, and immediately paled. "Oh my God."
Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder. "Damien. Why are you here?"
His gaze darted back to Elias, wary. "I—uh—I came to warn him."
Elias exchanged a glance with Evelyn. "Warn him about what?"
Damien hesitated. Then, finally:
"I think I know what the cipher unlocks.