Chapter 24 - Two Faces

The hospital room smelled of disinfectant and coffee, a strange combination that had become oddly familiar over the past two weeks. Afternoon light stretched through the windows, casting soft shadows on the white sheets.

Alex lay back against the pillows, his bandaged shoulder resting in a sling. He looked better, still tired, still healing, but alive. And that was more than Kath could have asked for.

She sat beside him, one leg folded over the other, twirling a pen between her fingers. Her voice had been animated for the past several minutes, recounting their most recent brush with death.

"And then," she said, leaning forward, "we ran with the kids, and behind us? Bullets everywhere. Like a damn warzone. I could hear them cutting through the air. One of them nearly clipped my ear!"

Alex smirked. "And yet, somehow, you're still in one piece."

Kath scoffed. "Because I'm good, Alex. Not just anyone can carry a kid and sprint for their life at the same time."

"You tripped."

Kath groaned. "It was a stumble, okay? And I recovered! That's what matters."

Alex chuckled, wincing slightly at the movement. "Well, for what it's worth, you did good."

She smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Yeah. We did."

For a while, the room was quiet. It was a rare kind of peace, the kind that didn't feel like it would be ripped away at any second.

Then Kath's phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen. Holloway.

Her brows lifted slightly as she answered. "Hey-"

"Kath," Holloway's voice was steady, lighter than usual. "I just wanted to tell you... I'm leaving."

She sat up straighter. "What?"

"I found a place. Far from here. Me and my daughter... we're gonna start fresh."

Her lips parted slightly, processing his words. "That's- wow." She let out a small breath. "That's really good, Holloway. She deserves that. You deserve that."

"Yeah," he said, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. "I think I like this new life."

Kath smiled. "Then enjoy it."

"You too."

The call ended. Kath stared at her phone for a moment before locking it, fingers lingering over the device.

Alex, watching her closely, raised an eyebrow. "Good news?"

Kath nodded. "Holloway's moving on. He's taking his daughter somewhere safe."

Alex exhaled, smirking faintly. "So, miracles do happen."

Kath huffed a small laugh. "Guess so."

She looked over at him—and, for the first time in a long while, allowed herself to feel something close to relief.

...

The café was warm, the air thick with the scent of roasted coffee and faint vanilla. Emma wasn't here for the atmosphere, though. She just needed caffeine and five minutes where no one needed anything from her.

Then the door chimed.

She didn't look up. Not at first.

Then-

"Black coffee. No sugar. I like to keep my suffering pure."

Her lips twitched. The barista, completely unfazed, punched in the order.

"That'll be three-fifty."

"Three-fifty for a cup of existential dread? Damn, inflation really hits where it hurts."

Emma shook her head. What a dumbass.

The guy paid, took his coffee, and without hesitation, walked toward her table.

"Mind if I sit?"

Emma finally looked up. Blond. Handsome in that annoyingly effortless way. Confident. Too confident.

"I feel like you're gonna sit regardless of my answer."

"Correct." He pulled out the chair. "But I like to pretend I have manners."

She snorted. "That's a weird strategy."

"Surprisingly effective."

"Debatable."

He took a sip of his coffee, exhaled dramatically. "Ah, yes. Just as bitter as my life choices."

Emma huffed a quiet laugh. "Do you always talk like this?"

"Only when I want to impress someone." He shot her a grin. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes. "Barely."

"Then I'll try harder."

"That sounds exhausting."

Julian smirked. "Not for me. I thrive under adversity."

Emma took a slow sip of her coffee. "You thrive on being a pain in the ass?"

"Exactly." He set his cup down. "Julian Vale. Lawyer."

"Emma." She paused. "Law enforcement."

Julian's brows lifted slightly. "That explains the posture."

Emma blinked. "Excuse me?"

He gestured vaguely. "Straight back. Eyes constantly scanning. The slight hesitation before answering personal questions. You're either a cop or a spy, and I feel like spies don't hang out in cafés."

Emma smirked. "So you make a lot of assumptions about strangers?"

"Only when I'm right."

"And if you're wrong?"

"That's never happened before."

Emma laughed. "You sound like a nightmare in court."

Julian grinned. "My opponents say the same thing."

She leaned back. "So, what do corporate lawyers actually do all day? Argue about… I don't know, taxes?"

"Sometimes. But mostly, I get paid an absurd amount of money to make rich people slightly richer."

Emma snorted. "That's depressing."

"Oh, incredibly. But it pays for my overpriced coffee habit."

"You could just make coffee at home."

"See, that's where we differ. I have no interest in being responsible."

"Shocking."

Julian smirked. "You judging me, Officer Emma?"

"Always."

"Good. I love an audience."

Emma shook her head, but the conversation kept flowing easily, unexpectedly. They bounced from topic to topic, half-serious, half-banter. Pineapple on pizza? "Absolutely not." "Objectively correct opinion." Best way to get out of an awkward conversation? "Fake a phone call." "No, no, you gotta go full method, start whispering, 'they found the body' and walk out."

Somewhere between arguing about movie endings and debating the existence of "good" billionaires, she checked the time.

An hour had passed.

She blinked. "Shit. I need to go."

Julian leaned back, completely relaxed. "Fair. I won't keep you. But if I see you here again, I might just take it as fate."

"Or coincidence."

"Same thing, depending on how much wine you've had."

Emma smirked. "See you around, Julian."

"You will."

And for some reason, she believed him.

It was almost evening by the time Emma stepped back into the office. The air was still thick with the smell of stale coffee and printer ink.

Kath was sitting at her desk, lazily flipping through some paperwork, her boots propped up on the edge. She looked up as Emma walked in.

"You look... weirdly happy," Kath said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "What happened?"

Emma shrugged, hanging up her coat. "Nothing."

Kath snorted. "Yeah, see, the problem with that is, I know your 'nothing' voice. And that was definitely not a 'nothing' nothing."

Emma sighed, rolling her eyes as she sat down. "It's just—" She hesitated.

Kath's eyebrows shot up. "Oh my God. Is this, wait. Hold on." She sat up straighter, pointing at Emma. "Did you meet someone?"

Emma scoffed. "Why would you assume that?"

Kath leaned in, grinning. "Because you have the face of someone who just had an unexpectedly pleasant conversation with an attractive stranger. Am I wrong?"

Emma pressed her lips together. "...Shut up."

Kath gasped. "I knew it!" She clapped her hands together. "Okay, tell me everything. Who is he? Where did you meet him? Is he single? Should I be planning a wedding?"

Emma groaned, rubbing her temples. "You're unbearable."

Kath smirked. "And yet, you love me."

Emma huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "It's not even a big deal. We just talked. That's all."

Kath wiggled her eyebrows. "Mm-hmm. And are you seeing him again?"

Emma hesitated.

Kath gasped again, even louder this time. "YOU ARE!"

Emma buried her face in her hands. "I regret everything."

Kath cackled. "Too late now. You're in deep, my friend."

Emma groaned, but despite herself, she couldn't stop the small smile from creeping onto her face.

Emma stretched as she stood from her chair, suppressing a yawn.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked, glancing at Kath, who was still focused on her screen.

Kath shook her head. "No, I need to check something."

Emma gave her a lazy salute. "Alright. I'll go first."

"Byeee," Kath said, barely looking up.

Emma sighed and stepped out into the cold evening air.

---

The house was silent when she opened the door.

"I'm hooome," she muttered, her voice low, tired, lacking its usual edge.

No response.

Of course not.

She lived alone.

Emma dropped her keys onto the counter with a dull clink and moved to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients without much thought. Two eggs. Beef. Beans. Juice. A banana. It was more food than she really needed, but cooking at least filled the silence for a little while.

When she finished eating, she rinsed her plate and went to shower. The warm water helped loosen her tense muscles, but it didn't wash away the lingering fatigue clinging to her mind.

She changed into her favorite pajamas, pink with tiny hearts, a white cat's face printed on the chest. It was a little ridiculous, but no one was around to judge.

The living room was dim except for the glow of the television. She picked a movie at random, some cliché romance she normally hated. Predictable dialogue, overdramatic confessions, a couple who had everything fall perfectly into place. She scoffed at the absurdity of it, but for some reason, it made her a little sad.

People had someone to share their space with.

She didn't.

Not that she cared. Not that she'd ever admit she cared.

Eventually, she got bored. The movie wasn't helping, so she shut off the TV.

And that was when she saw it.

The book.

"The Fallen Angel."

The case was exhausting. Mentally draining. But at least it kept her busy.

She picked up the old book, running her fingers along its worn spine before flipping through the pages. The ink was faded, the words fractured like something half-lost to time.

One passage stood out:

"When you stare at the eye, do you ever wonder what it sees in you?"

Emma frowned. That line never made sense to her before. It still didn't. Maybe the future would tell.

She kept flipping.

And then-

Something caught her eye.

A passage buried within the text, barely legible, its meaning slipping through the cracks of comprehension.

"A beast behind the veil does not know its chains. To love it is to hold the key. To free it is to forget why the door was built."

There was something unsettling about the words, but the more she read them, the more they twisted into something else. Something softer.

"A beast behind the veil does not know its chains."

Wasn't that just longing?

"To love it is to hold the key."

Wasn't that just trust?

"To free it is to forget why the door was built."

Wasn't that just... love?

Emma's lips parted slightly, but she didn't know what to say.

It sounded romantic.

It wasn't.

At least, she didn't think it was.

She closed the book, shaking her head.

Maybe she was just tired.