Chapter 10: The Man Who Never Was

Cass's head throbbed.

He stared at his coffee, watching the thin tendrils of steam curl into the air, vanishing before they could reach anything. His fingers gripped the mug tighter than necessary, but he barely noticed. The dream still clung to him—the heat, the fire, the figure in the flames, her voice.

"You're running out of time, Caleb."

It echoed in his skull, sharp and unrelenting. He had barely spoken a word since he woke up, his mind caught between lingering fear and the gnawing realization that he couldn't ignore this anymore.

So he did the only thing he could.

He went to work.

The office was the same as always—too the same. The same coworkers moving at the same rhythms, the same stale coffee scent in the break room, the same droning hum of keyboards and ringing phones. But Cass wasn't fooled anymore.

He dropped into his chair with a sigh, rubbing his temple before glancing up.

Rich was already at his desk, a pen twirling between his fingers as he scrolled through something on his screen.

Cass hesitated.

He wasn't sure why, but something about this felt… wrong. As if he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at something he couldn't quite see.

Still, he forced himself to speak.

"Hey, man."

Rich barely looked up. "Yo."

Cass shifted in his chair, gripping the edge of his desk. His mouth felt dry. "You remember that conversation we had the other day? About your uncle?"

Rich's fingers stopped moving.

Slowly, his head lifted, his brow furrowing.

"…What?"

Cass felt a cold spike in his chest.

"Your uncle," he repeated carefully. "Jonathan Carlisle."

Rich's expression didn't change. If anything, his confusion deepened, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Cass like he was waiting for the joke.

"I don't have an uncle," Rich said flatly.

The room felt colder.

Cass's stomach clenched. "Yeah, you do." He forced a casual laugh, trying to keep his voice steady. "Come on, man. You told me about him last week. You said he called you, but when you tried calling back, the number was disconnected."

Rich didn't laugh.

His expression darkened, his shoulders stiffening as he leaned forward slightly.

"Cass, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Cass's pulse pounded in his ears.

It wasn't just that Rich didn't remember the conversation.

He didn't remember the man at all.

Cass opened his mouth, then shut it again. His fingers twitched, gripping the desk harder.

This was different.

This wasn't like the bookstore, or the café, or the missing street.

This was a person—someone who had existed in Rich's mind just days ago. And now…

Now, there was nothing.

Rich ran a hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably. "Look, man. I don't know if you're messing with me, but I've never had an uncle named Jonathan. And I sure as hell never had a conversation like that."

Cass stared at him, his heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

He knew. He knew.

Rich had told him about his uncle. He had sworn up and down that the call had happened, that something wasn't right, that he could still hear his uncle's voice in his head.

And now…

Now, it was gone.

Cass exhaled shakily, trying to keep his hands from trembling.

This was proof.

It wasn't just records being erased. It wasn't just history being rewritten.

Reality was changing.

And memories were going with it.

Rich sighed, rubbing his face. "Dude, you good? You're staring at me like I just grew a second head."

Cass forced himself to blink, shoving everything down. Not here. Not now.

"…Yeah," he muttered. "Just tired."

Rich studied him for a second longer before shaking his head, turning back to his screen. "You need a vacation, man."

Cass barely heard him.

His thoughts were racing.

If the world could erase an entire person from someone's memory, what else could it erase?

How long before it erased something from him?

He swallowed hard, looking down at his phone. His hands were still shaking.

And then, the screen buzzed.

Cass's breath hitched.

He slowly turned it over, heart hammering against his ribs as he glanced at the notification.

Unknown Number.

His skin crawled.

He didn't want to open it.

Didn't want to see what they wanted to say this time.

But his thumb moved anyway.

The message was short.

"You're next."

Cass went still.

The blood drained from his face.

The office felt suddenly too loud, too distant, like he wasn't really sitting here anymore, like the world around him was thinning.

He swallowed against the nausea rising in his throat.

No.

No, this wasn't going to happen.

He wasn't going to disappear.

He wasn't going to let them take his memories.

His grip on his phone tightened.

If they wanted to erase him—

They were going to have to work a hell of a lot harder.

End of Chapter 10.