Chapter 2 Shadows don't sleep

CHAPTER 2

SHADOWS DONT SLEEP

The night after the chase should have brought some peace-but peace never visits Zion. Not truly. He stood in front of his door longer than necessary, one hand resting against the frame, the other clutching his side. Every breath reminded him of the sprint, the adrenaline, the weight of a child's trust. Then he saw it-an envelope tucked between the door and its frame, fluttering slightly in the breeze.

He pulled it free and read the bold red handwriting: YOUR RENT IS DUE, ZION.

He chuckled dryly, no humor in the sound. "Of course it is," he muttered, stepping inside. Bills stacked like unopened letters from ghosts waited for him on the counter. He dropped the rent notice among them and shut the door.

His apartment greeted him with the same dull welcome it always did. Faint light through dusty blinds, the scent of worn-out wood and forgotten dinners. It wasn't a home. Just a place to wait in between moments of chaos.

Zion leaned against the wall and slid down until he was seated on the cold floor. The events from earlier played over in his head-the man's scream, the girl's eyes when she saw her father, the way her little hands gripped Zion's leg like it meant safety. That simple touch had shaken him more than the chase.

He sat there for a while, unmoving.

When his body began to ache from the floor's chill, he finally stood. He walked to the bathroom and turned on the tap. Water filled the tub, echoing softly around the tiled walls. He stripped off his clothes, letting them fall in a trail, and stepped into the bath. The water was colder than he wanted, but he didn't mind. He sank into it until only his face remained above the surface.

Here, at least, he could float. Here, silence wrapped around him like a blanket.

He closed his eyes.

A face flickered in his mind-not the girl's, not her father's. Her.

The ghost lady.

He had seen her only once, maybe twice, in dreams-or was it in the streets of Okholm? He wasn't sure anymore. But every time, her presence felt the same: still, calm, powerful. As though she knew him better than he knew himself.

The water had gone lukewarm. He rose slowly, letting it drip from his skin, and grabbed a towel. After drying off, he looked in the mirror. His eyes were tired, rimmed with red. The scar near his collarbone, a reminder from a job gone wrong, caught the light.

He dressed in a faded T-shirt and joggers, then poured himself a glass of water. As he sat by the window, watching the empty streets below, he found himself thinking about the man earlier-the way he held his daughter like he hadn't breathed until she returned. Zion envied that.

Not the chaos. Not the crime. But the clarity.

That man knew what he was living for.

Zion wasn't sure he could say the same.

He picked up a case file from the coffee table-one of many. He flipped it open, stared at the crime scene photos, the redacted statements, the sketchy witness drawings. But the words swam before him. His brain wanted action. His body wanted rest. His heart... well, that was harder to define.

He sighed and dropped the file back in the pile.

"Tomorrow," he told himself. "I'll read it tomorrow."

But tomorrow had a way of staying out of reach.

Just as he stood to stretch, something caught his eye. Not the usual mail, not the red notices-something new. A thin, off-white envelope had slipped beneath his door. No name. No return address. Just a single symbol on the front: a crescent moon with a single tear drawn below it.

Zion frowned. It wasn't from the landlord.

He picked it up, turned it over, and opened it. Inside was a folded piece of paper with only six words:

"She waits where the silence lives."

His pulse quickened. He didn't understand it-but somehow, it felt like it was meant for him. Somehow, it felt like her.

The ghost lady.

Zion folded the letter again and set it gently on the table. He sat back down on the couch, uncertain. Was it a game? A threat? Or was it... a sign?

Outside, the city buzzed quietly in the distance-horns, far-off sirens, footsteps. But in Zion's apartment, the silence reigned. And yet, for the first time in a long time, that silence felt like it was waiting for something.

Like it had a message.

And Zion wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it-or if he already knew what it was.

He had thoughts of what that letter would mean

undoubtedly was it a dream

Startled the alarmed ringged

and guess what...