Nine of Swords.
The figure sitting up in bed. Hands covering their face. Nine swords mounted above them like a threat that never leaves.
We both stare.
“Oh,” Alex breathes.
“That’s me.” My laugh comes out broken. “That’s literally me. Sitting up in bed at 2 a.m. Hands over my face. Drowning in anxiety.”
“Nightmares,” Alex whispers. Her finger traces the card but doesn’t touch. “Fear that won’t let you sleep. Guilt eating you alive.”
“So that’s a yes? The ring is hers?”
“She’s trying to tell you something.” Alex looks up. Her eyes too bright. “Or you’re going completely insane.”
“Both can be true.”
“Both can absolutely be true.” She sets the Nine of Swords next to the ring.
Evidence. One mystical, one physical.
Both saying the same thing: I’m fucked.
“Tell me about the nightmares.”
I wrap both hands around Ron Swanson’s ceramic face. Let the warmth ground me.
“Four times. Maybe five. I’d wake up gasping, check my phone for news that wouldn’t be there, check the ring was still real, then pass back out into the same fucking dream. Like my brain was stuck on a loop askingare you still watchingand the answer was unfortunately yes.”
“That’s horrifying.”
“Right? Like my subconscious couldn’t just give me the teeth-falling-out dream like a normal person. It had to go full Gothic horror.”
Alex leans against the counter. “Tell me.”
“It starts in the alley. I’m at the mouth of it. It’s raining—not regular rain, sheets of it. I’m soaking wet instantly and it’s freezing and I can feel it, Alex. The cold. My clothes sticking. Rain down my face.”
“Okay.”
“Something pulls me forward. Like a hook in my chest. I try to resist but I can’t. My feet just—move. Without permission.” I swallow hard. “At the end of the alley, she’s there. Dahlia. Her back to me. Long blonde hair. Black dress. The little black skirt he mentioned.”
Alex’s hand tightens on her mug.
“I start running. Trying to reach her. But the alley stretches. Gets longer with every step. Like a fucked-up cartoon. I’m sprinting and she’s getting farther away.”
“Does she move?”
“No. She just stands there. Waiting. Like she knows I’ll never reach her.” I have to force the next words out. “Then he steps out. From the shadows. I can’t see his face—just the fur coat. Massive. Expensive. He steps between us and I try to go around but he moves with me. Always blocking. Always in the way.”
“You can’t get past him.”
“No. And Dahlia’s still just standing there. Not running. Not fighting. Just—accepting it.”
“Because she’s already dead,” Alex says quietly.
“Yeah.” The word hurts. “Then Dom drops down from the fire escape like he’s fucking Batman. He’s holding papers. The NDA.” I meet her eyes. “And he walks up to me—I’m frozen now, can’t move—and he says,You signed this. You know what it means.”
Alex’s face goes pale. “Dylan?—”
