In love with his own killer

LIII

Chapter 53
Treasure's POV:

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!"

Iyanna's sing-song voice cut through my dream, followed by the tug of my blanket being ripped away.

I groaned. "Iyanna..."

"Nope, no excuses," she grinned, bouncing out my room into the kitchen. "You'll thank me when you're old and well-rested from years of a perfect routine."

I dragged myself out of bed, already smelling the coffee she'd brewed. For months now, we had found our rhythm again. her waking me up in the asks crack of dawn, me pretending to hate it, both of us moving through the motions of a life that looked, on the surface, normal.

Normal. Or at least as close as I was going to get.

Iyanna didn't know what those months had cost me. She didn't know about Elijah, about the truth I'd tried to tell him, about how he looked at me like a stranger even when he knew me better than he was putting on. And I wasn't going to tell her. Some things had to stay mine.

"I hate work!" She shouts from the kitchen. I couldn't help but shake my head of her craziness with a smile. I missed her a lot while I was away. She would've kept me sane and she would've supported everything and as much as I want to break down and tell her everything, I wasn't ready.

I wasn't ready to talk about the situation like it happened years ago. I'm still in the process of healing through the emotional and physical aspect of it all.

Guilt could do a lot of things to a person. It took an example out of me.

We quickly ate our breakfast. It wasn't a shocker that we were both running late.

By the time I made it to the office, the illusion of routine cracked. The bullpen buzzed with confusion, desks full but voices quieter, trust thinner. Greene's desk was still empty, his absence a shadow no one could shake.

"Crooks."

I looked up to see Marcus - one of my colleagues- standing by that desk, his eyes steady. "You should take it."

Marissa, passing with a stack of files, nodded. "He's right. We need someone."

I rolled my eyes. They've been trying to convince me to take it for weeks and it's honestly quite surprising that the spot wasn't already filled.

I wasn't sure I wanted Greene's chair, but maybe it wasn't about wanting anymore. Maybe it was about surviving.

I sat at my desk, fingers brushing over the file Marissa had dropped. Around me, the hum of work picked back up, as fractured and uneasy as ever. And in that noise, I found my thoughts drifting back to him.

Elijah.

For so long, I thought we were pieces of the same puzzle. That if he knew me fully, he'd choose me. But I understood now — he wouldn't. Just like I couldn't choose him. We both chose ourselves. And maybe that was the only way either of us had survived.

The ache in my chest lingered, but it wasn't sharp anymore. It was quieter. Bearable.

I straightened the file in front of me, drew in a breath, and reminded myself of the truth I'd finally accepted:

Some stories don't end with each other. Sometimes they just... end.

And for the first time in months, I was okay with that.

A sharp knock at the glass wall pulled me from my thoughts.

"Conference room. Now," Santiago said as the rest of the team was next to him.