Caleb stared at the woman in his doorway. The dim hallway light flickered, casting fleeting shadows across her face. She had piercing green eyes—sharp and unflinching—and a posture that spoke of someone used to danger.


    “My name’s Evelyn,” she said, her voice low but steady. “And if you want to stay alive, you’ll let me in.”


    Caleb didn’t move. His hand stayed on the edge of the door, every instinct on high alert. Something about her set his nerves on edge—not fear, exactly, but the kind of awareness that came with knowing trouble when he saw it.


    “How do you know my name?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.


    Evelyn exhaled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Up close, Caleb noticed a faint scar along her jawline, subtle but distinct—like a mark left behind by something she couldn’t forget.


    “I’ve been following your case,” she said simply. “The murders. The symbols. The keys. I know more about what’s happening than you do.”


    Caleb tilted his head slightly, studying her. “And you just decided to show up at my apartment in the middle of the night?”Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Evelyn’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t flinch. “I didn’t come here to argue. You’re a detective—if you’re as good as they say, you already know this case is bigger than it looks.”


    “You’re not wrong,” Caleb said. “But that doesn’t mean I trust you.”


    Evelyn crossed her arms. “You don’t have to trust me. But if you want answers, I’m your best shot.”


    Caleb hesitated, his gaze flicking to the blackened book sitting on his table. The symbols inside still burned in his mind, even after hours of staring at them. “Alright,” he said finally. “Start talking.”


    Evelyn didn’t sit. She stayed by the door, her green eyes sharp. “The murders, the symbols, the keys—they’re all connected to something called the Vault.”


    “The Vault,” Caleb echoed. “You mean the conspiracy theory?”


    “It’s not a theory,” Evelyn said flatly. “It’s real. And the keys are part of it—they unlock the path to the Vault.”


    “Why would anyone kill over a bunch of old keys?”


    Evelyn hesitated. “Because the Vault holds something powerful. Something that can’t fall into the wrong hands.”


    “And the Keepers?” Caleb asked. “Where do they fit into this?”


    “They’re the ones protecting it,” Evelyn said. “The people who were killed—they were Keepers. Someone’s hunting them down to get the keys.”


    “And you?” Caleb asked.


    “I’m trying to stop them,” Evelyn said.


    Her voice was steady, but Caleb caught the flicker of something in her expression—something she was trying to hide.


    “Alright,” Caleb said finally. “But if you’re lying to me—”


    “I’m not,” Evelyn interrupted. She stepped back toward the door, her posture tense. “Get your jacket. We’re running out of time.”