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Rafe took a long drink of coffee before he spoke. “I started where everyone starts.”

Silence.

“The docks. Nothing. The old fight house. Nothing. I tracked down Carven first.”

My brow lifted.

“Nothing. Called Colt. Nothing.”

“Did he say anything?” I asked.

A shake of his head and another draw of his brew. “The moment I said Cassian’s name… he stopped talking.”

Rafe looked down at his coffee. He was holding back.

“Went to the Old Chapel. The place was a ghost town. When I walked out and headed back to the car I found it.”

He reached into his trouser pocket and unfolded a small square of paper. He slid it across the desk.

My gaze dropped to it.

Three words.

Walk away…

Or bleed.

“It says—” he started.

“I can read it.” I cut him off.

Silence settled between us.

“Your sight?”

I met his widened stare. “It’s coming back…” I glanced at the paper. “slowly.”

But it was the words on the paper that held me.

“I thought I rattled someone.” His voice remained calm. “No footsteps. No warning. One second I was reaching for the driver’s door. The next… darkness.”

I looked up.

“They didn’t rob me. Didn’t take my watch. My wallet. My gun. They left everything.”

“Why?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “So I’d understand it wasn’t about the gear.” He looked me straight in the eye. “It was a message.”

Another silence.

“I woke up eight hours later. Mud. Rain. Middle of nowhere. I walked until I found a road. But you know what bothers me?”

I waited.

“They could’ve killed me. They chose not to.” His eyes settled on the note still resting between us. “They wanted me alive enough to remember the warning… and bring it back to you.”

I turned the paper over.