132. Threads of the Past

Elijah sat in his study, the photograph resting on the desk before him. The cryptic note scrawled on the back seemed to mock him with its vague threat.

Doug stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Elijah’s furrowed brow as he scrutinized the image.

“Marshal,” Doug began cautiously, “this doesn’t feel random. Whoever left that note knows exactly how to get under your skin.”

Elijah nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of the photo. It was an old, faded image of his family’s estate before the fire—a place he hadn’t thought about in years. But the writing on the back held his attention.

“‘Every spark begins with a betrayal,’” Elijah read aloud, his voice low. His jaw tightened as memories of that night threatened to resurface. “They’re taunting me.”

Doug stepped closer, his voice steady. “Do you think this is someone from The Architect’s network? Or… someone connected to your family?”

Elijah’s eyes darkened. “It could be both. The Architect’s network thrived on exploiting old wou
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