Leon didn't sleep.
Instead, he stood in front of the towering board in his private office—pins, threads, photos, maps. All centered around one man: Daniel Monroe.
He now had enough to build a timeline. Daniel had been off-grid for over a year. Until Ayla resurfaced.
Coincidence?
Leon didn't believe in them.
Nico entered silently, placing a manila folder on the table.
"We got a hit. He bought a burner phone two days ago. Cash. Security footage confirms it's him. Near the old church in Harrow."
Leon's jaw flexed. "He's getting closer."
Nico hesitated. "You sure you want Ayla to stay here? This man knows your name now. Your face."
Leon's eyes didn't leave the board. "Let him come."
⸻
POV: Ayla
The note wouldn't stop echoing.
"Does he know you?"
Daniel wasn't talking about her name. He was talking about her past—the part of her life she'd locked behind steel walls. The version of Ayla that didn't survive the fire.
She'd never told Leon the full truth.
Not about Daniel.
Not about why she left.
Not about what she did the night everything burned.
Sitting alone in Leon's guest room, she opened her old journal. Pages torn, ink smudged.
There it was.
A drawing Daniel once made of her.
A dagger wrapped in flames.
His version of who she was.
She shut the book and breathed through her panic.
Leon knew her now.
But did he know who she used to be?
⸻
POV: Daniel
Daniel sat in the confession booth of an abandoned church. His fingers tapped the side of the wood.
He wasn't confessing anything.
He was planning.
"She's with him," he muttered, almost amused. "Of all people…"
But his smile faded as his tone grew darker.
"She forgot what we survived. She forgot me."
He pulled a second envelope from his coat, sealed and ready.
He wouldn't send it just yet.
Not until Leon Moretti stepped one foot too far into the past.