Chapter 17: When the Past Knocks
The knock came at 3:17 a.m.
Not the kind of knock that begged entry.
The kind that claimed ownership.
Nova froze where she stood, mid-step in the hallway. Bea emerged from the bedroom in a tank top and shorts, her hair wild and sleep-warm.
They locked eyes.
No words.
Just knowing.
Another knock. Slower this time.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Nova reached under the bookshelf. Pulled out the emergency flare gun. Not loaded with fire—but with ink. A beacon that would alert the gallery's silent alarm. Bea armed herself with a silver crowbar, a relic from the storage room she once rebuilt with her bare hands.
The door rattled.
And then—
Silence.
---
Outside
Cassian stood on the porch, hands gloved, eyes calculating. He wasn't here to barge in.
He wanted to be invited.
He placed a second envelope by the door.
This time with a thumb drive.
On it: security footage from two days ago.
Bea. Alone. Shopping. Walking. Laughing.
Followed.
Tracked.
Targeted.
---
Back Inside
Nova didn't flinch as she watched the footage. But her chest rose and fell like waves crashing.
"He's here," she said flatly.
"I know," Bea replied. Her voice didn't tremble.
They didn't cry.
They loaded a camera system around the gallery and house.
They placed mirrors behind every door.
And then Nova wrote a letter. Just three lines:
> To the one who taught me to fear—
I don't run anymore.
I burn.
She folded it, placed it in a black envelope, and taped it to the front door.
---
The Next Night
The gallery opened as usual. "The Light Room" was full of people—survivors, artists, strangers seeking safety.
Cassian slipped in during the quiet hour.
But Nova was waiting.
She stood in front of the mirror piece—"You Made It. Look at You."
He paused behind her.
"So this is who you've become," he said.
She turned.
And smiled.
"No. This is who I always was. You were just too afraid to see it."
Bea stepped out from behind the curtain, crowbar in hand. A security guard nodded from the shadows. A red light blinked from above.
Cassian blinked.
Realized.
Too late.
---
After
The police didn't need a fight. He walked out in cuffs.
But the war wasn't over.
Healing never is.
And yet—Nova and Bea stood outside the gallery that night, watching the stars return to a sky that had been gray too long.
"You okay?" Bea asked.
Nova leaned her head on her shoulder.
"No. But I'm getting there."
---
Final Scene
Nova opened her journal.
Bea read over her shoulder.
> Some monsters don't live under beds.
They live in memory, in muscle, in silence.
But even the worst of them can't survive in the light.
Nova closed the book.
"We need a new chapter," Bea whispered.
Nova smiled. "Let's write it together."