Julian realized the zip file wasn't just data. It was a tracking beacon. By unzipping it, he’d pinged his exact location to the sender. Outside, a black SUV pulled into the driveway.

The email had no subject line, no body text, and came from an address that looked like a cat walked across a keyboard. But there it was, sitting in Julian’s inbox like a digital landmine: .

"Allison is at the coordinates. Fiona is at the station," the voice said. "And you? You're the one who’s going to tell me where the third coin is. Because I know you didn't throw it in the lake. I watched you hide it in the floorboards of that office you're sitting in."

Julian opened the audio file first. Static hissed through his speakers, followed by the sound of wind over water. Then, a voice—thin, breathless, and unmistakably Fiona’s—whispered: "He’s looking for the third one, Jules. He thinks we still have it."

Then he remembered the audio. “He’s looking for the third one.”

Julian grabbed the heavy obsidian coin from under the floorboard, not for luck, but as a weight. He didn't run for the door; he ran for the back window. The story of wasn't over—it was just moving from the screen into the shadows of the real world.