Shadows Through The Keyhole

The room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from Olivia’s laptop screen as she sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, scanning through records, half-buried texts, and old European manuscripts. The coffee beside her had long since gone cold, but she barely noticed, fingers moving over the keyboard in a rhythm that matched the turning gears in her mind.

The key sat on the nightstand beside her, its metal gleaming under the soft light. The Templar cross was unmistakable, but it wasn’t just that. It was the markings surrounding it, faint but deliberate, a ring of Latin inscriptions weathered by time. It wasn’t the standard emblem most people would recognize. It was possibly older, and definitely more obscure.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders, eyes flicking between her notes. The Templars. Old-money institutions. Crusader artifacts. European banking syndicates. There were too many connections, but not enough to make sense of it yet. She had a theory, but theories weren’t facts.

She needed more time.

A shift in the room pulled her attention away from the screen. Leanna stood by the window, arms folded, eyes distant. She had been quiet all evening, not in the focused way she usually was, but in a way that felt… unmoored.

Olivia had seen her like this before after missions that had gone sideways and after moments where things slipped out of control. But this wasn’t just frustration. This was fear.

For long minutes, Leanna said nothing. Just stared out at the city, fingers tightening against her arms.

Then, at last, she spoke.

“She stopped breathing, Liv.”

Olivia closed the laptop. That was it. The thing she hadn’t said.

Leanna didn’t turn around. Didn’t move. Just kept looking out the window like the answer to everything might be waiting outside.

“I thought I lost her. I’ve seen people die before. I know what it looks like. And for a second… I thought that was it. I thought she was gone.”

Her voice was controlled, but barely. There was an edge to it, something raw beneath the surface. Olivia had known Leanna for years, had seen her walk into situations that would break most people without so much as flinching. But this? This was different.

Olivia didn’t rush to fill the silence. She let it sit. Let Leanna have it.

Finally, Leanna let out a slow breath, running a hand through her hair. “I spent half my life trying to find her. Fix what I did. And now… what if I can’t? What if she’s slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do?”

She turned then, meeting Olivia’s gaze for the first time that night. Her eyes were sharp, but tired. Guarded, but honest.

Olivia leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “She’s not slipping away, Leanna. She’s remembering.”

Leanna let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah? And what’s that going to cost her?”

Olivia didn’t have an answer for that. Neither of them did. For a moment, neither spoke. The weight of it all just sat between them.

Then, Olivia reached over and picked up the key from the nightstand, turning it between her fingers. “This symbol. It’s not just the Templars. I’ve seen variations of it before. In old texts, in the Vatican archives.” She looked back at Leanna. “If Jason had this, it means he was onto something before he died. And whatever it is, Jessica is at the center of it now.”

Leanna nodded once, slow, deliberate. She still looked shaken, still looked like part of her was replaying that moment on the street, seeing Jessica collapse, feeling helpless. But there was something else, too. Resolve.

She pushed off from the window, walking over to the bed and picking up the key from Olivia’s hand. Studying it. Turning it over.

“Then we find out what it means.”

She didn’t need to say it, but Olivia understood. Leanna wasn’t just looking for answers. She was looking for a way to make sure she never had to feel that helpless again.