Night had fallen quietly, thick and velvety, wrapping the small safe house in a cocoon of uneasy peace.
Clara slept with her breathing slow and steady, one hand lying on the sheet, her fingers just barely brushing Adrian's.
Outside, the wind shook the trees as if trying to say something, something no one should ignore.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Sleep took him suddenly, dragging him into a viscous darkness where every sound was muffled and distant.
Then, light. A flickering streetlamp. And beneath that trembling cone of light stood a car.
Not just any car. That car.
The same one they had found parked under his apartment, the night everything began to fall apart.
A man was cleaning it.
His movements were calm, precise, methodical.
A cloth slid over the metal, his breath slow, his face… missing.
Not covered, missing. As if Adrian's memory refused to define it, as if the dream itself didn't want him to see.
The sound of the wet rag against the metal echoed like a heartbeat.
Adrian stood there, unmoving, aware he wasn't part of the scene but only its witness.
Then the lamp flickered again, and a window lit up in the distance.
Behind the glass, two shapes: him and Clara.
He saw them, from outside his own body, pressing the remote button and lighting up the car's headlights.
The man lifted his head toward the window.
A shiver crawled down Adrian's spine.
The man knew who they were. And he smiled.
A slow, deliberate, unnerving smile.
Then he spoke, but his voice didn't leave his mouth.
It slid directly into Adrian's head, sharp and clear as a whisper in the dark.
"It all started here."
A flash of blinding light.
The cloth fell. The car vanished, swallowed by shadow. The streetlamp burst in a white explosion.
Adrian woke up in a gasp, drenched in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Adrian?"
Clara's voice was still thick with sleep.
He rubbed his face. "I had a dream."
"The same one again?"
He shook his head. "No. Worse. There was a man… he was cleaning a car. Our car, Clara. The one we found under my building."
She sat up, the sheet sliding off her bare shoulders.
"Maybe it's just a confused memory. That night was chaos."
"No," he said, voice trembling. "It wasn't a memory. It was like someone wanted me to see it."
Clara searched his face, reading the fear behind his eyes.
"Who do you think he was?"
"I don't know. I couldn't see his face. But he knew us."
The silence between them thickened, heavy as breath held too long.
Later, when Luca woke, Adrian told him the dream.
Luca listened quietly, a cup of coffee in his hands, dark circles under his eyes.
When Adrian finished, Luca frowned slightly.
"A car? The black one? Which car, exactly?"
Adrian stared at him, confused.
"The one we found under my building, the one we escaped with."
Luca raised an eyebrow.
"I never saw any black car, Adrian. I wasn't under your building that night. I only met you later, at the victim's house."
Clara froze.
"Wait… you're saying it wasn't you who left it there?"
"No," Luca said firmly. "I came after. You were already in the middle of the mess."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Adrian exchanged a troubled look with Clara.
"Then who left it there?" she murmured.
"Someone who knew where we'd be," Adrian said quietly.
"Or someone who wanted you alive," Luca added, rubbing his temples.
Clara began pacing across the room.
"I could try to connect," she murmured. "Maybe I can trace something, an echo, a mental imprint, anything."
Adrian nodded. "Do it. But if you feel anything off, stop immediately."
She closed her eyes.
Silence fell completely, broken only by the clock's slow ticking.
The air thickened, vibrating faintly. Adrian felt her energy expand like an invisible field.
Clara's breathing deepened; sweat pearled on her forehead.
For a brief moment, Adrian heard a faint whisper, like wind through branches.
Then, nothing.
Clara opened her eyes, disappointed.
"It's like someone is… shielding their mind. I can't break through. Every time I try, I hit silence."
"Like when you tried to reach Aurora?" Luca asked.
"Yes… but different. This silence isn't empty. It's aware. It's a wall built by someone who knows exactly what they're doing."
The day dragged on.
Luca sorted through papers and maps, Adrian stared out at the rain, and Clara sat still, lost in thought.
All of them could feel something moving, something approaching.
Then Adrian stiffened.
"Wait," he whispered.
Clara turned.
Luca stopped talking.
Adrian's gaze went distant, unfocused.
A voice, clear, low, and unfamiliar, echoed inside his mind.
"Don't be afraid."
Not Aurora's voice. Not Clara's. A man's. Calm. Steady.
"I'm not your enemy."
Adrian's hand went to his temple as if to catch the sound.
"Who are you?" he thought.
The voice answered immediately.
"I'm near. I want to help you."
Then silence. And finally, one last sentence that froze his blood.
"Don't ask who. Ask why."
The link broke.
Adrian exhaled shakily.
"Adrian?" Clara's voice trembled as she touched his shoulder.
He looked at her, pale and tense.
"Someone spoke to me."
"Who?"
"I don't know. But… they knew everything. About us."
Luca stared at him.
"You heard a voice?"
Adrian nodded. "It wasn't an illusion. It was real. Inside my head."
Clara's hand found his cheek.
"What did it say?"
He swallowed. "That we shouldn't ask who. But why."
The words lingered in the air like smoke.
Luca raked his hand through his hair.
"Maybe it's someone who wants you to find them."
"Or someone who's been guiding us all along," Clara whispered.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
A flash of lightning illuminated the window, and for an instant Adrian saw his own reflection, eyes dark, breath steady.
And in that moment, he knew: the real game had never been between them and Rinaldi.
It was something far larger. Someone who had always been one step ahead.
And maybe… the faceless man from his dream hadn't been a message.
He'd been a warning.