When FBI cyber analyst Scarlett Crowe is assigned to the high-profile case of "The Cipher Murders," she finds herself entangled in a deadly game. A series of encrypted messages have been left at gruesome crime scenes, each code more complex and chil...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The next day felt like a fog. My mind kept flashing between memories, clues, and pieces of evidence that felt so close yet so distant. When I walked into the briefing room, everyone was already focused, eyes scanning files, fingers tapping keyboards. I took a breath, trying to clear my head. Today was going to be big; I could feel it.
Hunter was the first to look up, meeting my gaze with an intensity that told me he'd found something. "Scarlett, I ran a new location analysis on your father's last known movements. Based on his cell tower pings, he was in proximity to that abandoned warehouse by East Park Road the night he disappeared. But that's not the only thing." He slid a file across the table to me.
I took it, my hands steady but my heart racing. I could feel the weight of every eye in the room on me.
"We found traces of blood in a hidden crawlspace in that warehouse," Hunter continued, voice careful but certain. "It's old, degraded. But DNA tests came back... It's a match."
The room felt like it shrank around me. My throat went dry. I blinked, nodding once to keep my composure. I'd spent years wondering if he'd walked away that night—or if he hadn't had a choice.
Agent Steele cleared his throat, pulling me out of my daze. "We also identified a link between your father's last associates and the suspected drug ring Cipher was targeting. Your father... he wasn't just a user, Scarlett. He was deep into it—enough that he became a loose end."
My mind tried to absorb the words, but it was like swimming through concrete. My father. A loose end? And yet, somehow, it fit. The missed dinners, the paranoia, the moments he'd push me away just as I thought he'd opened up.
Elena was next, pushing a stack of reports toward me. "Scarlett, we've been chasing this shadow of Cipher for years, but this is the first time we have tangible evidence linking him to your father's death. It's... it's no longer an assumption. He was murdered."
There it was. A confirmation. I'd spent years trying to solve my mother's case, but a part of me never really let go of him, always wondering if there'd be some explanation. A part of me had wanted to keep him alive in my mind, if only to hold on to one last thread of family. But now, the thread had snapped.
The room was silent, filled with the weight of unspoken words. I forced myself to breathe, nodding to the team, a hollow, practiced smile stretching across my face.
I excused myself, keeping my face neutral until I got outside, then stumbled home, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time I shut the door behind me, I could barely hold it in.
Everything I'd held onto, every last bit of hope—it was gone. He was gone. I let the pain come, all the anger, the guilt, the heartbreak crashing over me like waves until I was gasping for breath. ________________________________
It wasn't some time before Nick found me in the stairwell, crumpled on the steps, my face buried in my hands. I hadn't heard him approach, but when I felt his presence, I looked up, feeling raw and exposed. His eyes softened as he took me in, understanding everything I couldn't say in that moment.
Without a word, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair back from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. The simple, steady gesture grounded me, pulling me from the whirlwind of pain in my chest. His hand lingered a moment before he slid down beside me, wrapping one arm around my shoulders in a half-hug that was warm and solid.
"Scarlett," he said quietly, his voice firm but filled with compassion. "I'm so sorry."
I felt the tension in my shoulders start to ease under his touch. The steady strength in his embrace was like an anchor, holding me steady while everything else felt like it was slipping away. I leaned into him, letting his presence absorb some of the weight pressing down on me.
He tightened his arm around me just slightly, his fingers brushing my shoulder in a comforting rhythm. "I know how hard this is," he murmured, his voice a low, calming presence. "But you're not facing it alone. I won't let you."
For a moment, the pain softened, replaced by something steady and real. With Nick here, the grief didn't feel quite as impossible to bear. I didn't have to be strong, not in this moment—not with him.
