The moment the door closes, I grab Madeline’s shoulders, forcing her to look at me.
"Mali! Talk to me. Okay, so this creep says Charles Vane is my father. Fine. It’s a shock, it's sick, but why are you acting like the world just ended? You’re scaring me."
Madeline’s lips move, but no sound comes out at first. She looks at me and I see a flash of pity so profound it makes my skin crawl.
"Lucy," she finally chokes out, her fingers digging into the vinyl of the booth.
"The man... the one who you bumped into at the morgue. The one who killed Jake and Bryan."
"The Arbiter," I whisper, the nickname feeling like poison.
"He told me about his father," Madeline says, her voice a hollow rasp. She leans in close, her eyes darting to the window to make sure Sterling isn't listening.
"He hates him. He told me his father was a monster who broke everything he touched. A man who disappeared to build an empire of shadows, to the Elite."
I feel a cold sweat break out across my neck. I still don't see the bridge. I don't see the connection.
"Mali, lots of monsters have fathers. What does that have to do with Charles?"
Madeline reaches out, taking my hand in hers. Her grip is crushing.
"Lucy, he didn't just mention his father. He spoke of him as the man who made him. And the name Sterling just gave us... Charles Vane..."
She swallows hard, the realization finally spilling over her lips like a death sentence.
"He is Vane's son. If Charles is your father... then the man who is stalking me, the man who’s obsessed with me, the man I... I thought I was starting to understand..."
She stops, her voice failing, but she doesn't have to finish. The world tilts on its axis. The air in the café vanishes, replaced by a vacuum of pure massacre.
He isn't just the most wanted serial killer in the city. He’s my blood. He’s the brother I never knew I had, and he’s currently holding the woman I love as his psychological plaything.
"He's my brother, step brother," I whisper, the words feeling alien, disgusting.
Madeline is staring at me, her eyes darting across my face as if searching for a version of me that isn't connected to the nightmare currently unfolding.
"Wait," Madeline says, her voice barely a thread.
She pulls her hand back, her fingers trembling against the edge of the table.
"Lucy... how did you know who he is? The Arbiter. I never told you it was actually him.”
I let out a dry laugh that tastes like copper. I lean back, the adrenaline finally starting to override the nausea.
"Mali, did you really think I was just sitting at home knitting while you were disappearing into thin air? You’re my best friend, my only family.”
I reach into my bag and pull out a crumpled folder of printouts. Blurry CCTV stills, police scanner transcripts, and dark web forum threads I spent three nights straight navigating.
"I did my research," I hiss, my voice dropping as a group of teenagers laughs at a table nearby.
"The Elite, the bodies I drove you to the morgue, the Arbiter... these aren't just stories. People are terrified of him. We talked about him. I saw the patterns. I even saw him that night, you know that.”
Madeline looks at the folder, then back at me, her expression a mix of awe and sheer terror.
"You've been digging into him? Lucy, if he knew—"
"I don't care what he knows!"
I snap, my stubborn streak finally flaring up.
