The door swung open with the slow, deliberate groan of rusted hinges.
Ryan's grip tightened on the knife. He didn't breath.
A woman stood in the doorway, framed by the dim, pulsing light of the hallway. She wasn't dressed like an intruder she had no mask, no weapon just a long, Rained beaten coat and an old leather handbag slung across her shoulder. Strands of damp hair clung to her face, and her eyes sharp, calculating ,locked onto the diary on his bed.
"You kept it," she said softly, almost as if she were relieved.
Ryan didn't move. "Who are you?"
"I'm not here to hurt you." Her gaze flicked briefly to the knife in his hand. "You can put that away."
Ryan didn't and replied"Answer me."
She took a tentative step inside, closing the door behind her. "My name is Kate Shaw . I think… I think that book belongs to me. Or at least, part of it does."
Ryan's stomach twisted. No one should have known about the diary. Not in this life, not in any.
"You've got about three seconds to explain before I call the cops," he said.
Kate reached into her Leather handbag, moving slowly, and pulled out a single, timeworn sheet of parchment. She held it up like a peace offering. The edges were frayed, and the ink shimmered faintly under the harsh glow of his ceiling light.
Ryan's heart stopped. He knew that page.
He dropped the knife without realizing it. "Where did you get that?"
"I found it," Kate said, carefully placing the page on the bed beside his diary. "In an archive in Munich. I've been chasing pieces like this for years. They… they all have the same handwriting. Yours."
Ryan's fingers hovered over the parchment, not daring to touch it. The memory bleed hit him like a freight train:
Sandstorm winds ripping across his face. A sprawling desert city burning. His own voice Karesh shouting a name into the smoke. A blade flashing, blood on his hands, and a vow whispered into the dying embers: I will find you, across every life.
He staggered back, clutching his temple.
Kate watched him, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "It's real, isn't it? You remember."
Ryan forced himself to breathe, his pulse thundering in his ears. "You have no idea what you're messing with."
"Then tell me," she said, her tone firm now. "Because these pages.They're everywhere. Museums, private collections, black markets. I think someone's been scattering them on purpose. And every time I get close to the next piece, someone tries to stop me."
Ryan looked past her, toward the door, suddenly aware of the creaking floorboard from moments ago.
"Someone followed you here,you have been fuckin followed" he said quietly.
Kate's eyes widened. "What?"
The apartment's lights flickered, plunging them into a heartbeat of darkness. When they came back on, Ryan already had the knife in hand again.
A shadow moved across the wet glass of the window.
Kate's voice dropped to a whisper. "Who's out there?"
Ryan swallowed hard. "Not who. What."
And then the window shattered.