Barry’s POV

The message burned in my hand long after the phone screen went dark.

You don’t really think it’s over, do you?

I stared at it until the letters blurred, until my chest ached from holding my breath. Whoever sent it knew exactly what to say—sharp enough to slice through the illusion of peace I’d been trying to build in the last twelve hours.

My coffee sat untouched, the steam curling up like it was mocking me. I pushed it away, grabbed my phone again, and reread the words. No number. No trace. Just venom wrapped in a promise.

A normal man would’ve called the precinct, logged it as...