Chapter 46 – The Package by the Door
The knock was soft.
So soft that Nova nearly missed it between the cracking of burnt paper in the fireplace and the static of the old jazz station playing in the background—an effort to make the room feel lived in. It didn't.
She opened the door to nothing.
Nothing… except a box.
Unmarked. No return address. No tape. Just a matte-black box with one thing carved into the lid in gold foil:
CHAPTER ONE.
Nova didn't breathe.
She crouched, ran her fingers over the letters. They weren't printed—they were pressed in, like something old. Ancient. Ritualistic.
"Bea," she called.
Bea came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her oversized shirt. She stopped cold.
"Is that—"
Nova opened it.
Inside: a manuscript. Bound by string. Heavy paper, not the kind sold in bookstores or print shops.
No title.
No author name.
Just the first sentence typed in bold:
> "They thought the fire was fiction. But the ashes never lie."
Bea reached for it. Flipped to the second page.
Gasps twisted in both their throats.
There were pictures. Of them.
Nova in the hallway of the old house before the fire. Bea outside, dragging a case. A shot of their hands—cut and held tightly together, blood mingling in promise and guilt.
Bea sat down.
"This isn't blackmail."
"No," Nova said slowly, "It's a message."
---
Later that night, after hours of analyzing the manuscript page by page, they discovered something else.
The story mirrored theirs. Not just events, but dialogue. Phrases they had said only to each other, in moments no one else was present. It was as if the box had been listening, writing them from the shadows.
Bea tapped the last page.
"This chapter doesn't end," she said.
"What?"
"It cuts off mid-sentence."
Nova leaned over her shoulder.
> "Bea turned toward the light and said to Nova—"
Blank.
White space.
It was waiting for them to finish it.
---
That night, Nova couldn't sleep.
Her mind raced with questions. Was this some kind of punishment? A challenge? A call to confession?
She walked to the window, pulling her sweater tighter. Outside, the streetlights hummed. The world looked normal. But they knew now—it wasn't.
Bea came up behind her and leaned against the window too.
"You think someone's trying to rewrite our story?"
"No," Nova whispered. "I think someone wants to own it."
"And we can't let them."
Bea reached for her hand.
"We write the next chapter," she said.
Nova nodded. "Together."
---
The next morning, they did something neither had expected.
They submitted the original manuscript of Flames in the Night to the judges—but with an encrypted file attached, titled: The Truth Beneath.
Inside it? A second book. One they'd started long ago, the real version, raw and unfinished. The one they were too afraid to publish until now.
No character names.
No metaphors.
Just truth.
Burned into every page.
---
At 11:57 p.m. that night, a new email arrived.
Subject: WE SEE YOU.
Inside: a single line.
> "Only one version will survive. Choose wisely."
Bea and Nova sat in silence.
There were no instructions. No signature. Just a choice.
Tell the world their truth…
Or hide behind fiction and hope no one else picked the lock.
Nova closed her laptop slowly.
"Chapter 47's going to be hell, isn't it?"
Bea turned the lamp off.
"It's going to be real