I'm drumming my fingers on the table, chewing the inside of my cheek until the skin feels ragged and I taste the metallic flavor of blood. The room feels freezing and the back of my shirt is sticking to my skin from the cold sweat trickling down my spine. I'm watching the second hand on the clock tick, thinking back to the premonition I had about Karen's death, wondering if we'll end up sparing her life.

The wait is the worst part, the hardest part.

Joel and the chief are talking in his office. They're standing and I'm sitting in the corner. I hear the sound of them speaking but it's not translating into words. It's all just noise in my head. All of it sounds like white noise.

"Carrigan?"

Chief is staring at me expectantly.

Obviously perplexed, my eyebrows knit together. "Hmm?"

"I was just trying to get your attention," Chief says. "I was thinking it would be best if you stay behind at the station while Reed makes the arrest."

I try to read Joel's face for a reaction, but he looks indifferent. I'm starting to wonder how he's feeling, but don't really know anything for certain.

"I don't know about that—" I start, but Joel cuts me off.

"He has a point," Joel argues. "It's undisputed that you lack experience in the field, and anything that could get you killed or injured is a no-go. We'd rather not have you around as a liability. We've already arrested him once, and I doubt he's going to come without a fight this time. It's risky for you."

I don't know why, but this frustrates me. It's not like I'm utterly helpless and can't take care of myself, and it's not like I didn't help find the evidence that got us to where we are now in the first place. I want to help with the arrest because I feel like I deserve to be there. The problem is, I'm not trained. I don't have the ground to really fight.

"I'll be back soon," Joel says. "You'll have the report tomorrow, Chief."

"Be careful out there," I remind him, catching his wrist as he reaches for the doorknob. "He's dangerous."

Joel tilts the corner of his mouth up, a small dimple indenting his cheek. "I can handle myself, Vi."

With that, he leaves me in the office with Chief, his boots falling softly on the floor as his footsteps gradually fade out.

Chief has a solemn expression on his face. I know then that whatever news he's about to deliver won't just be bad— it could be completely, utterly catastrophic.

"What's happened?" I ask, my stomach contorting inside my gut. "Why do you look like the world is gonna end?"

"The hackers claimed responsibility for the dead cop and the robbery."

The words hit hard, each one like an individual stab to the chest. My lungs feel like they're full of water and I'm not sure I'll be able to talk or breathe because holy shit this is happening. This is one of those moments, one of those times where I'm not sure I'm hearing this right.

"What do you mean by that? You can't be serious!" I exclaim.

"They sent me an email confirming it," he says grimly. "I can't trace it. The IP address is lost and any data we can get on whoever is doing this is scrambled. The truth of the matter is that they confessed to plotting the murder."

"It was a junkie," I tell him, as much as myself. "It was just a junkie looking for a fix—"

He grimaces. "It wasn't a coincidence, Vi. They're sick people."

"What do they want from me? What could they possibly want from me?"

"It's not what they want from you, it's what they want from your powers. What you do is almost godlike," Chief tells me. "They wanted to establish what they're capable of and turned an innocent person into a pawn in this sick game of theirs."

I'm squeezing my hands into tight fists, nails cutting into my palms. "So what do I have to do?"

"They want something from you. They haven't specified what they're after yet and that's all they said. We need to keep you safe for now. If need be, we'll send you into hiding."

"It's not me I'm worried about, Chief."

"I know," he says. "If we play our cards right, they shouldn't have a reason to hurt anyone."

I keep thinking about Joel, even if it seems stupid, even if I know that it's dumb to think about someone I barely know like they're a pillar in my life. He's Joel. He makes people smile and he believes in the good of humanity. He's a great man, and I'm supposed to end his life in the near future.

He's the ocean, vast and endless around me. What I failed to realize was that running from him was a futile effort. With every encounter, his fate was knotting itself in mine. Now he's far too close to me, and the chances of me keeping him alive are getting slimmer and slimmer by the second.

"I'm sorry, Carrigan, if I had known about Reed I wouldn't have put you on a case together."

"Is it that obvious I'm thinking of him?" I ask, wiping my cheeks as the first tears fall.

"I know you well enough," Chief says. "The way that boy looks at you— God, he's smitten already."

That doesn't make it any better. All it does is confirm my worst fears.

"You think there's any chance of them leaving me alone?" I dare to ask.

The chief is many things, but his strongest characteristic is that he's honest. He doesn't spin some wild story to spare your feelings. He gives it to you straight and hopes that you can take it. I admire his sincerity, but I'm afraid of the answer because I'm fairly certain I know it already.

"No," he says. "I'm sorry to say it, but these kinds of people aren't likely to just kill an innocent man and then disappear off the map."

I feel like I've reached the top of a roller coaster and am about to plummet down the first drop. My sobs are barely contained as I get dangerously close to utterly freaking out.

"Okay," I whisper. "I'm gonna— I have to get some air."

"Go right ahead."

I leave in a hurry, walking as fast I can until I reach the stairwell. Then, I'm running. I'm running so fast my feet are thudding against the concrete. I take the steps in twos. My courage has vanished, and my life is flashing like a bad horror movie inside my head.

Everything suddenly managed to get worse.

I reach the roof and throw the door open, no longer just crying. I'm angry. I'm angry that I have been cursed with this 'gift'. I'm angry that a man is dead because of me. I'm angry that I'm getting close to Joel Reed as much as I don't want to. I'm angry that I have no clear sense of direction in my life.

But, above all, I'm angry that I'm still alive when countless good people aren't.

The city is beautiful from up here. The skyline lights are blurry through my tears, the wind is pushing back my hair and freezing my tears to my cheeks. Tonight, there are no stars, the clouds have blocked them.

There is no one to hear me, so I cup my hands over my mouth and scream. I scream until I'm senseless because I don't know what else to do anymore.

If I live, people could get hurt.

If I die, people could get hurt.

If I die, Joel might live.

If I live, he might die.

The thoughts and scenarios rush through my mind, but what pulls me out of my spiral is my phone ringing in my back pocket.

It's been at least an hour since Joel left to make the arrest. It's not a shock he's calling me now.

"Hey," I say.

"Are you crying?"

"No," I say. "My allergies are just bad right now."

He sighs. "I don't buy that."

I don't bother trying to cover it any further. I just stay quiet.

"We got him here at the station," he reports.

He doesn't sound too happy about it. Right away, I know Karen is dead. Karen is dead, and that's why Joel sounds so miserable.

"When I got to the house, the other officers, the pair I called in as backup, got in just before me. Had him in cuffs and pinned to the wall in the kitchen. But we were too late."

She's gone.

They couldn't save her.

"He was drunk. He killed his own wife and cut her throat open with a broken champagne bottle," he spits. "If we had only gotten the evidence sooner—"

"Stop," I order quietly. "Joel, stop it."

He's so defeated. "How am I supposed to just be okay with the fact an innocent woman died because I wasn't a good enough detective?"

"You were brilliant," I tell him. "Listen to me, Joel Reed, you did everything you could have done."

I'm mourning for Karen. I'm mourning for a woman who first lost everything, and then lost her life. I'm also mourning for Joel because I worry that if we couldn't save her, I can't save him. I'm still crying for so many reasons. But I would rather focus on him than my pity party, so I try to console him as best I can.

After a pause, he speaks again.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"The roof." I chew on my lip. "I needed some space."

I'm grateful he doesn't push me for more details. Instead, he says, "Can you come meet me downstairs?"

"Yeah. Give me a few minutes."

"Alright. See you then."

He hangs up first.

As I'm walking toward the parking garage, I've got my phone clutched tightly against my chest.

He's there by one of the cars, leaning against it. I don't waste a second in wrapping my arms around him for the second time tonight, standing on my tiptoes so my face rests near the crook of his neck.

He holds me tightly. "I'm sorry for all of this, Vi. It's not easy doing this job. At least he's behind bars for good now. Just remember you made this possible. You should be proud."

I shake my head. "You did all the heavy lifting, Joel. I just helped."

"You don't give yourself enough credit." He smiles into my hair. "I'm sorry our date wasn't all you hoped it would be."

I don't bother telling him it wasn't a date. He needs a win right now.

I pull back from the hug, cocking my head at him. "We did something good today, you and I."

"Yeah, we did," he agrees.

I don't know how we end up at a 24-hour coffee shop, but sure enough, I find myself across from him in a cafe. We sip identical dark roast blends, and instead of worrying about Kevin Grant or the hackers, we make small talk.

I learn in minutes a million little things about Joel. I learn that he cuts the crust off his sandwiches because he thinks it's weird to eat them any other way. He plays guitar and sings, but only really knows Hallelujah and prefers the Jeff Buckley version. Most of his music is older than both of us. He wears leather jackets and shirts he can layer because he gets cold easily. The answers come easily. The stress fades the longer we carry on.

We stay until both of us are tired, too worn out to stay. Parting ways is weirdly difficult. I don't want him to go yet, but he has to. He can't stay by my side forever, but I wish he could. Being alone right now sounds awful, after everything, but I have to deal with it.

"Goodnight, Vi," he says softly.

"Goodnight, Joel," I murmur, letting my lips linger as I kiss him on the cheek. It's a simple gesture, perfect for the end of a night like this. I hope it conveys what I can't voice aloud. He's good at reading people, so he probably gets it.

We have to walk in separate directions, and when I look back, he's glancing at me too.