And that would be his first mistake.
Clenching my fists and grinding my teeth, I forced myself to keep moving, fighting the exhaustion that pricked at my mind like a thousand needles. Sleep threatened to pull me under, but I wouldn’t surrender. Not yet. Not here.
I stumbled through Lee’s condo like a ghost, disoriented and restless. Though I had known him for years, the space felt foreign, like a museum curated by a man I barely recognized. Secrets clung to the air like cobwebs, and every corner whispered with mystery.
Could I find the truth about him in these walls?
Everywhere I turned, there were Native American artifacts—delicately preserved in glass cases or strewn casually across tables and shelves. Totems, feathers, flint blades. Pieces of forgotten history that Lee had gathered like trophies. But I couldn’t tell if he revered them or used them. Nothing here was innocent.
Then I entered his bedroom—and stopped cold.
A wave of something nauseating hit me. Sentiment. Affection. It crawled across my skin like rot.
The walls were covered in photographs—Jack. Olivia. Lee. All of them laughing, embracing, immortalized in moments I hadn’t been part of. Their smiles felt like teeth.
I moved through the room quietly, rifling through shelves, lifting objects that felt too carefully placed. Picture frames. Trinket boxes. Drawers.
And then?—
In the drawer of a corner table, I paused. Something tugged at me.
I pulled it open.
Beneath a neatly folded scarf, it waited.
Her dagger.
Olivia’s time-travel blade—gleaming under the soft amber light. Small, elegant, lethal. It shimmered like it knew I’d come for it. Like itwantedto be found.
My heart pounded as I approached, drawn to it by some invisible pull. I stretched out a hand, my fingertips brushing the cold hilt.
It thrummed beneath my hands—ancient, aware, alive.
Power rippled through the metal, vibrating my arm like a whisper from another world.
Lee had kept it hidden in plain sight all along, just like everything else.
A blade masked as a keepsake.
A weapon disguised as love.
A lie wrapped in the illusion of safety.
I pressed my fingers to my lips, mind racing. I needed a plan. Something ruthless. Something final.
There was no choice—I had to destroy the original journal. It had been my shadow, my secret keeper, the one thing that kneweverything. But now it was too dangerous to exist. I’d replace it with the false diary. And therightsomeone would find it. I didn’t know who yet, but I would.
Then, Raul.
My heart twisted at the thought of him. Winning him back wouldn’t be easy. But I needed the poison. Without it, the plan fell apart.
And before any of that, I had to lie to Jack.
Tell him I was leaving to search for the Moon Dagger. Make it sound noble. Purposeful.
I could only pray he wouldn’t see through the performance and uncover the reason behind my sudden departure.
The journal sat heavy in my hands—my confessor, witness, and executioner.
