The apartment was no longer a home.
It was a crime scene.
Cassian barely left the bedroom. He sat in the dark, headphones on, watching the same footage over and over — Ava's final moments, the mirror, the masked figure.
Elián watched him from the doorway, heart aching.
He knew that look.
The look of someone trying to rewind time.
Elián needed air.
He left the apartment and followed the only lead he had: the rose.
The white bloom with the black ribbon had haunted him all night. He'd placed it in a glass of water, but it had already begun to wilt.
He returned to the rooftop.
Nothing.
But then he noticed something new.
A trail.
Petals.
White, then red.
Leading down the fire escape.
He followed.
The petals led him to a side alley behind the theater.
A rusted door.
Unmarked.
He pushed it open.
Inside: darkness.
And the scent of roses.
Not fresh.
Dried.
Preserved.
He flicked on his phone's flashlight.
The beam cut through the dark.
Revealing a room.
Small. Cramped. Hidden.
Walls lined with mirrors.
Dozens of them.
Each one cracked.
Each one facing inward.
And in the center — a chair.
Upholstered in red velvet.
Facing a screen.
A projector sat on a crate, still warm.
A reel spinning down.
Elián stepped closer.
On the screen: himself.
Sleeping. Laughing. Crying.
Moments he didn't remember being filmed.
Moments that felt stolen.
Back at the apartment, Cassian's laptop pinged.
A new message.
No sender.
No subject.
Just a file.
"AvaVale_voice.mp3"
He hesitated.
Then clicked.
Her voice filled the room.
"Cass… if you're hearing this, it means they found me. Or what's left of me."
Cassian's breath caught.
"I didn't die the way they said. And I wasn't alone."
Static.
Then silence.
Then a whisper.
"He's watching you now."
Cassian slammed the laptop shut.
His hands were shaking.
He looked up — and saw Luca standing in the hallway.
Watching.
Expression unreadable.
"Everything okay?" Luca asked.
Cassian nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just… tired."
Luca smiled.
But his eyes didn't.
Elián stepped closer to the chair.
On the seat: a notebook.
Black leather. Unlabeled.
He opened it.
Inside: sketches.
Of him.
Sleeping. Singing. Screaming.
And one of Cassian.
Kneeling before the mirror.
And one more.
A girl.
Ballet shoes. Long hair. A cracked smile.
Ava.