Not the First

Jessica sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the paper in her hands.

“This is not the first time we have met.”

The words felt like an echo of something just out of reach, a whisper from a past she didn’t remember or maybe a past that was never hers to begin with. She rubbed a hand over her face, exhaling slowly.

Somewhere in the room, the steady hum of the minibar fridge filled the silence. The hotel was quiet, the city outside a faint murmur beyond the glass balcony doors.

She should have been exhausted. She wasn’t. Instead, her mind was circling the same question over and over again: Who sent this? And, more disturbingly, how did they know what to say to her?

Jessica let the note slip between her fingers onto the bed. Then she stood, reaching for her whiskey glass from earlier. She lifted it, let the last sip burn its way down, then set it back down with a quiet click. She wasn’t in the mood to drink anymore. She needed to think.

* * *

Leanna was still awake when Jessica knocked at her door. She answered without hesitation, dressed in a dark sweater and leggings, her hair slightly tousled like she’d been lying down but hadn’t slept.

She took one look at Jessica’s face and sighed. “You got something.”

Jessica held up the note. Leanna read it, her expression giving nothing away. Then she exhaled through her nose, shaking her head.

“You’re not going to like my first theory.”

Jessica crossed her arms. “Try me.”

Leanna leaned against the doorframe. “You don’t remember meeting them before, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Jessica’s jaw tightened. “You’re saying it’s another gap in my memory.”

Leanna didn’t say anything at first. Then, quietly: “I’m saying we don’t know what Vanguard did before you got out.”

Jessica looked away. She had spent years trying to untangle the false memories from the real ones, trying to make sense of who she was before she became this version of herself. And now, just when she thought she had burned the last pieces of that past, it was reaching for her again.

She shook her head. “If this was Vanguard, they wouldn’t play games. They’d make a move.”

Leanna nodded slowly. “Then that leaves option two.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow.

Leanna folded her arms. “It’s them.”

Jessica didn’t need to ask who. She knew that she meant the protectors. The people who had been guarding this secret for centuries. The ones who had decided, long before she was born, that people like her weren’t supposed to leave.

She glanced back at the note.

“This is not the first time we have met.”

Her stomach twisted. She had walked away from the priest at the monastery, had shut the door on whatever game they were playing. But what if this was their way of telling her she was never going to walk away?

* * *

They found Olivia downstairs, sitting at the hotel bar with a half-empty glass of wine and her tablet glowing faintly in the dim light. She looked up as they approached, eyes sharp despite the hour.

Jessica slid the note onto the bar in front of her.

Olivia read it. Then exhaled, rubbing a hand across her mouth.

“God, I hate cryptic bullshit.”

Jessica smirked faintly. “You and me both.”

Olivia tapped the paper. “Okay. First question: How was this delivered?”

Jessica leaned against the bar. “Slipped under my door while I was out.”

Olivia’s gaze flicked up. “Hotel security cameras?”

Leanna shook her head. “If they were good enough to get this to her without being seen, they’re good enough to avoid surveillance.”

Olivia let out a slow breath. “So whoever this is, they’re not amateurs.”

Jessica nodded. “And they knew exactly what to say to get under my skin.”

Olivia’s expression darkened. “That’s the part I don’t like, ” she said, reaching for her wine, taking a slow sip, then setting the glass down.

“Whoever wrote this knows you, Jess. Maybe not personally, but enough to know what would rattle you.”

Jessica paused before answering as if she was trying to convince herself that it was true. “Leanna thinks it’s the Protectors, ” she replied.

Olivia considered that, tapping a nail against the stem of her glass.

“Makes sense.” She glanced up at Jessica. “The question is, what do they want?”

Jessica gave a humorless smile. “That’s the part I don’t think I want to find out.”

* * *

The bar had thinned out, the bartender drying glasses, the last few guests murmuring in the corner. Jessica ran a hand through her hair, letting the silence stretch.

Then Olivia said, softly: “You’re thinking about walking away, aren’t you?”

Jessica’s fingers tightened around the edge of the bar. She didn’t answer. Because part of her had been considering it. She had spent her life chasing ghosts, unraveling mysteries, pulling apart the seams of the world until there was nothing left. But this wasn’t just another case. This was her. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

She took a slow breath. “If I go further, I don’t know if I come back from this.”

Leanna met her gaze, steady. “Do you want to?”

Jessica stared at her. Then, finally, she exhaled. “No.”

Olivia smirked, raising her glass. “Well. That settles that.”

Jessica let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Then she picked up the note one last time.

“This is not the first time we have met.”

She folded it carefully, tucking it into her jacket. If someone wanted her to remember. They’d have to do more than whisper through paper. They’d have to come closer.