A wide, circular chamber. Shadows clung to the high walls like drapery. At the center, raised above the rest, a figure sat alone on a narrow platform. No name. No face. Just a voice.
"Progress?" it asked.
Below, members of the council stood in silence for a moment. One stepped forward, head lowered slightly.
"She involved the police," the member said. "But we've responded. The message was delivered."
The figure didn't move. "That's not what I asked."
Another pause.
"I'm not interested in excuses or dramatics," the voice continued. "The ability. Is it compatible with the cause?"
None of them answered.
The silence lingered.
Then, from the far end of the room, a chair creaked. A figure with gray hair leaned forward, fingers laced in front of him.
"We'll handle it," he said. "We'll confirm compatibility and secure the outcome."
The figure on the platform gave a slow nod. "See that you do."
Then, quietly, "Dismissed."
The council bowed their heads. The room emptied.
And the figure remained alone.
---------------------------------
Melissa turned suddenly, her voice trembling with frustration. "Liam, stop the car."
He didn't ask why. He just pulled over, the tires crunching against the gravel at the edge of the road.
She was out before the vehicle fully stopped, slamming the door behind her. Her feet hit the pavement hard as she stormed toward a cluster of trash bins by the sidewalk. She kicked one over, sending it crashing into the wall with a hollow bang. Bottles clattered out, rolling along the gutter. She grabbed a plastic crate nearby and flung it into the street, screaming without words—just a raw, guttural release of pain she hadn't been able to voice since the nightmare began.
Liam sat frozen in the driver's seat, watching her come apart. Then he glanced down at her phone, still unlocked on the passenger seat.
His eyes locked on the image—the one from the unknown number. The severed leg. The message below.
He let out a sharp breath through his nose, jaw tightening. Slowly, he stepped out of the car.
Melissa stood in the middle of the mess, chest rising and falling in quick bursts, fists clenched like she wanted to fight the air itself. Above them, the sky had started to change. Clouds that had earlier been scattered and harmless now drew together, thick and heavy, dimming the late afternoon sun. A strange stillness settled, as though the city itself had paused to listen.
Liam approached her carefully.
"Hey… Mel…" His voice was soft, steady.
She didn't look at him. She was still shaking.
"It's them," she choked out.
He said nothing, just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. She resisted at first, her arms stiff at her sides, but then she collapsed into his chest, sobbing with a force that made her whole body tremble.
He held her close, his hand gently cradling the back of her head.
Above them, the clouds hovered… and then slowly began to retreat. The wind that had crept in faded back into stillness. The light returned in soft strokes. The tension broke.
From across the street, a man stood in the shadows of a rundown storefront. He had been there a while—silent, unmoving. His eyes never left them.
And then, as Melissa's sobs quieted, the man turned. Without a sound, he disappeared into the alley behind him.
Liam saw it. Just a glimpse. A figure slipping away. He looked down at Melissa and didn't say a word.
They walked back to the car slowly, neither speaking. The quiet between them wasn't heavy—it just was. Melissa slid into the passenger seat, reached into her purse, and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She lit one without a word, the flame briefly illuminating her face. She took a long drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl against the window.
"Let's go home," she whispered.
Liam started the car and pulled into the street. The silence continued, broken only by the soft sound of tires on asphalt and the flick of her lighter as she lit another stick. By the time she dropped the third one into the tray, Liam's eyes drifted toward her hands.
They were trembling.
She pulled out a fourth cigarette. Liam slowed the car, glancing over at her. Her jaw was tight, her gaze forward, empty.
He parked quietly outside the house and turned off the engine.
"Hey," he said gently, catching her hand before she struck the lighter. "That's enough."
She didn't argue. Just looked at him, expression unreadable. Liam stepped out and came around to her side, helping her out of the car. They walked into the house slowly.
Inside, she dropped her bag to the floor and turned to him suddenly. Her hands found the collar of his shirt, pulled him close. Then, without a word, she kissed him—hard, desperate, searching.
It wasn't romance. It wasn't passion. It was a plea. A question. A scream disguised as contact.
She tugged at his clothes, pushing him back toward the couch. Liam didn't resist. She climbed onto him, her breath uneven as her fingers slid against his skin, her eyes dark with something far beyond desire.
Maybe this was how she coped. Maybe this was the only way she knew how to feel something—anything—other than what she'd just seen.
And in that moment, he let her.