Claire paused beneath a flickering streetlight, her breath visible in the cold night air. The brown leather bag pressed against her ribs contained more than just her wallet and keys; it was filled with records stolen from Presidio Labs. The decaying paper and faded ink inside were her only hope of understanding how Lydia could possibly be alive\u2014if the note wasn\u2019t just some elaborate trap.<\/p>\n
The faint sound of slow, deliberate footsteps pulled her attention back to the present. She scanned the area but saw only the empty sidewalks, luminescent with the glow of the city\u2019s old-fashioned amber streetlights. The brick buildings on either side stood silent and imposing, their darkened windows like empty eyes observing her plight.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t have come,\u201d said a voice from behind her. Deep and calm, it carried the weight of warning.<\/p>\n
Claire spun around to face a man dressed entirely in black, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a brimmed hat. He stood under the light, the height difference between them accentuating the trench coat\u2019s contrasting elegance against her dark jeans and practical leather boots.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d she demanded, taking a step back. Her hand dipped into the bag, brushing against the cold steel of the small pistol she had hastily packed before leaving her apartment.<\/p>\n
\u201cSomeone who knows what happens when you dig too deep,\u201d he answered cryptically. \u201cGive me the files. Walk away. Trust me when I say, you\u2019ll want to forget Lydia.\u201d<\/p>\n
Claire didn\u2019t answer. Instead, she turned and ran, hearing the man\u2019s curse fade behind her as her boots pounded the uneven pavement. She clutched the bag tighter, feeling the hard edges of the folders press against her ribs. The Red River Bridge wasn\u2019t far now. She had memorized its location from the city map, a relic of old cartography before digital apps dominated.<\/p>\n
When she reached the bridge, the city faded like a distant hum. The river below glinted with dark crimson as it reflected taillights, street signs, and the occasional pulse of neon from local bars. She stepped onto the metal platform, her breath locked in her chest. Standing on the bridge, bathed in cold moonlight, was Lydia. Not a ghost. Not a memory. Her sister, alive and unaged.<\/p>\n
\u201cClaire,\u201d Lydia said softly, her voice trembling. But there was something wrong\u2014a lifelessness in her eyes, her movements too precise. \u201cGive it to me. The bag. They promised to let us both go if you do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Confusion and anguish choked Claire\u2019s thoughts, but her instincts screamed it was a trap. \u201cWho are they? Lydia, what did they do to you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Before Lydia could answer, the man in black emerged from the shadows, his hard eyes glinting like steel. \u201cTime\u2019s up,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n
A single shot rang out. Claire gasped and fell to her knees, reaching forward as Lydia crumpled like paper, her face frozen in shocked betrayal. The man stood over her, pistol in hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cI warned you,\u201d he said quietly. The files, Lydia\u2019s inexplicable return, the trap\u2014it all dissolved as Claire’s vision blurred and darkness enveloped her. The last thing she saw was Lydia\u2019s hand, reaching toward her, before it dropped lifelessly to the cold metal bridge.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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