The fourth body wasn't supposed to happen that fast.
Nia knew it before Harris even finished his sentence.
"Different location," he said over the phone, voice tight in a way he tried to hide. "Same mark."
Of course it was.
She didn't bother asking for details. She was already grabbing her keys.
The scene sat on the edge of the river this time.
Not the clean part of the city. Not the kind with restaurants and walkways and people pretending the water made everything feel softer. This stretch was older. Industrial. Rusted railings and concrete barriers that held onto cold longer than they should.
Police lights painted everything in pulses of red and blue.
Nia stepped under the tape, the smell hitting her a second later.
Same as before.
Sharp. Controlled. Wrong.
Harris stood a few feet from the body, hands on his hips, staring down at it like it had personally offended him.
"You weren't kidding about urgency," she said as she approached.
"Didn't think I was," he muttered. "Take a look."
She did.
This one wasn't laid out in a living room.
He sat against a concrete barrier, back straight, legs stretched out in front of him like he had chosen the spot himself. His coat was still buttoned. His hands rested loosely in his lap.
Placed again.
Not discarded.
Not hidden.
Displayed.
Nia crouched, her eyes moving automatically over the details.
No struggle.
No defensive wounds.
One clean entry point beneath the ribs.
And—
There it was.
The "R."
Carved just below the collarbone, identical in precision to the others.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
"This is getting bold," Harris said. "First three were inside. Private. Now we've got one sitting out in the open like it's a damn exhibit."
"He wanted him found," Nia said.
"Yeah, well, he's going to get found, all right. By the entire city if this leaks."
Nia didn't respond. Her attention had shifted to the victim's face.
Same thing.
No fear.
No panic.
Just that same unsettling calm, like whatever had happened here had not been a surprise.
Like the ending had made sense.
"Who is he?" she asked.
Harris exhaled sharply. "Marcus Delaney. Runs a logistics company. Or ran it. We've had our eyes on him for months. Smuggling, intimidation, couple of missing persons tied loosely to his routes. Nothing we could pin clean."
Nia nodded slowly.
Another one.
Not innocent.
Not convicted.
Unpunished.
Her gaze dropped back to the mark.
Recorded.
The word came again, louder this time.
She stood, scanning the surrounding area. Officers moved in the background, keeping distance from the body as forensics worked around it. The river lapped quietly against the edge of the concrete, indifferent to everything happening a few feet away.
"This isn't escalation," she said after a moment.
Harris looked at her. "Feels like it."
"It's not about confidence," she continued. "It's about certainty."
"Explain."
She gestured slightly toward the body. "He didn't move him here because he wanted attention. He moved him here because the location mattered."
Harris followed her line of sight, frowning. "It's a river."
"It's a route," Nia corrected. "Transport. Movement. Hidden transactions. If Delaney was using this area, then this isn't random placement."
"It's a message."
"Yes."
"To who?"
Nia didn't answer right away.
Her eyes shifted past the scene, beyond the officers, beyond the flashing lights—
And landed across the street.
He was there.
Of course he was.
Lucian stood near the far side of the road, partially obscured by shadow and distance, exactly where he had been the first time she noticed him.
Watching.
Not the body.
Not the police.
Her.
Nia didn't break eye contact this time.
"Don't," Harris said suddenly, following her gaze. "I already saw him."
That surprised her just enough that she looked back at him.
"You did?"
"Yeah," he said, jaw tight. "He showed up about ten minutes before you did. Didn't cross the tape. Didn't say anything. Just stood there like he was waiting for something."
"For me," Nia said quietly.
Harris's eyes flicked back to her. "You want to explain why a defense attorney is hovering around multiple murder scenes?"
"I'm working on it."
"Well, work faster," he muttered. "Because if this turns into something bigger and he's tied to it, I need to know which side of this he's on."
Nia's gaze returned to Lucian.
He hadn't moved.
Hadn't shifted.
Hadn't even pretended to look elsewhere now that he'd been noticed.
He just stood there, steady and unreadable, like the chaos around him had nothing to do with him at all.
And somehow—
That made him feel more connected to it.
"I'll talk to him," she said.
Harris grabbed her arm lightly before she could step away. "Be careful."
Nia looked down at his hand, then back up at his face.
"I always am."
"That's not what I meant."
She held his gaze for a second, then gently pulled her arm free.
"I know."
The street was quieter than it should have been.
Even with the flashing lights and the movement behind her, there was a strange stillness in the space between Nia and Lucian, like the world had decided to pause just long enough to let whatever this was unfold without interruption.
She crossed the road without rushing.
Lucian didn't move.
"You're getting predictable," she said as she stopped a few feet in front of him.
"Am I?"
"You keep showing up."
"So do you."
"That's my job."
He tilted his head slightly. "And you think this is mine?"
"I think," she said, studying him carefully, "you're involved in a way you're not explaining."
"That's true."
The directness of it still caught her off guard, even though it shouldn't have by now.
Nia folded her arms. "You were connected to one victim. Now you're present for two more. That's not coincidence."
"No."
"Then what is it?"
Lucian glanced briefly past her, toward the scene, then back to her face.
"A pattern," he said.
"I know it's a pattern," she snapped. "I'm asking what your role in it is."
A faint smile touched his mouth again, softer this time, like he almost appreciated the way she refused to let things slide.
"You're asking the wrong question."
"Then give me the right one."
He stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
Not enough to crowd her.
Just enough to shift the space between them, to make the conversation feel more private even in the open air.
"You should be asking," he said quietly, "why they aren't fighting."
Nia's expression didn't change.
"They don't have defensive wounds," she said. "I noticed."
"That's not what I meant."
Her eyes sharpened.
Lucian held her gaze, something darker threading through his calm now.
"They know," he said.
A pause.
"Know what?"
"That it's coming."
The words settled between them, heavy and precise.
Nia's pulse ticked once, steady but present.
"That's not possible."
"Isn't it?"
"You're suggesting foreknowledge of death," she said. "That's not a pattern. That's—"
"Horror?" he offered lightly.
"Impossible."
Lucian's expression didn't shift.
"I've learned," he said, "that people accept a lot of things when they don't have another option."
"That doesn't explain the calm."
"No," he agreed. "It doesn't."
Silence stretched between them again.
Nia took a slow breath, grounding herself.
"You knew this was going to happen," she said, more certain now.
Lucian's gaze didn't waver.
"I knew it was possible."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting right now."
Her jaw tightened.
"That's not good enough."
"It will have to be."
For a second, frustration flared sharp in her chest.
Then she noticed it.
Something subtle.
Something most people would have missed.
His hands.
Still in his pockets.
But not relaxed.
His fingers were flexing slightly against the fabric, controlled but tense.
Like he was holding something back.
Nia's voice dropped, quieter now.
"What are you trying not to do?"
Lucian stilled.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then his expression smoothed again.
"That's a dangerous question."
"Answer it."
He looked at her differently then.
Not like an observer.
Not like someone studying a problem.
Like someone recognizing one.
"You're closer than you should be," he said.
"That's not new."
"No," he said softly. "But it's becoming a problem."
"For who?"
A pause.
"For you."
Nia didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Didn't soften.
"Then stop showing up where I am."
"I'm not showing up where you are," he said.
His voice stayed calm.
Steady.
Unshaken.
"I'm showing up where they are."
The implication landed immediately.
Her stomach tightened slightly.
"You're tracking them."
"I'm aware of them."
"That's not the same thing."
"No," he said. "It's not."
Nia searched his face, looking for the break, the slip, the moment where the truth would show itself without permission.
She didn't find it.
But she found something else.
Something quieter.
Something heavier.
Regret.
Not for what had happened.
For something that hadn't happened yet.
"You said they know," she said. "How?"
Lucian's gaze flicked briefly toward the body again.
Then back to her.
"When people spend their lives avoiding consequences," he said, "they tend to recognize when they finally catch up."
"That's not recognition," she said. "That's fear."
"Yes."
"But they're not afraid."
"No," he agreed.
Another pause.
Then—
"They've already been judged."
The words were quiet.
Almost gentle.
And somehow—
That made them worse.
Nia felt it then.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something colder.
Something deeper.
Like she had just stepped into a space where the rules she understood didn't apply the way she thought they did.
She held his gaze anyway.
"By who?" she asked.
Lucian didn't answer.
This time, the silence wasn't deflection.
It was refusal.
Nia nodded once, sharp and controlled.
"Then I'll find out myself."
"I know you will."
"And when I do—"
"You'll wish you hadn't."
The certainty in his voice didn't sound like a threat.
It sounded like experience.
Nia stepped back, breaking the space between them before it could pull tighter.
"This isn't over," she said.
"No," he agreed. "It isn't."
She turned without waiting for another response, crossing back toward the scene with measured steps.
She didn't look back.
But she felt it.
His gaze following her.
Not possessive.
Not curious.
Something else.
Something heavier.
Like he was already watching the outcome of a decision she hadn't realized she'd made.
Harris looked at her the second she stepped back under the tape.
"Well?"
Nia's eyes moved back to the body.
Then to the mark.
Then to the river.
"He's not just involved," she said quietly.
Harris's expression hardened. "Then what is he?"
Nia didn't answer right away.
Because for the first time—
She didn't have one that made sense.
"He knows what's coming," she said finally.
Harris frowned. "That doesn't mean anything."
"No," she said.
Her gaze lifted slightly.
Just enough to catch the empty space across the street where Lucian had been standing.
"But it's going to."