The man stepped forward, hands raised, but he wasn't threatening. There was a calmness about him, an ease that made me hesitate. His voice was low, steady. "I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Job. Your mother trusted me. She said if anything ever happened to her, you'd come looking for the truth."
Jason's gun didn't waver. He was still sizing the man up, his eyes narrowed, but I could see the way Job spoke—how he didn't try to intimidate us, just spoke the facts. It felt… different. The air shifted.
I swallowed hard, looking at Jason. "Job?" I whispered, remembering a fleeting moment from my past. My mother, late at night, a hushed conversation. I had overheard the name, but it had meant nothing then.
Jason's voice broke through my thoughts. "What did she say about him?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "Just the name. It's a… ghost from the past."
Jason's eyes shifted between Job and me. Then, slowly, he lowered his gun—just a fraction, but enough to show he was considering it. "We don't have time for this. What's your plan?"
Job stepped forward, holding out an envelope. "There's a place. A room. Secure. A private doctor. Your mother made sure you'd have access, if the time ever came."
Jason hesitated, still uncertain, but I felt something in my gut—an almost irresistible pull. This was the lead we'd been waiting for. The way he spoke… the confidence in his voice. I took the envelope from his hand without hesitation.
"We'll go with you," Jason said quietly, still wary, but there was no other choice. And the man was right—time was running out.
The car ride was quiet. Job led the way, navigating the streets with practiced precision. No one followed. No one seemed to notice. I tried to relax, focusing on the steady hum of the engine, but my mind kept circling back to what Job had said. My mother trusted him. And that trust meant something—didn't it?
We arrived at the place he'd arranged. The house was tucked away, hidden by trees. A stone mansion that looked like it belonged in a postcard—too perfect, too serene. No one was waiting for us, no crowds, no chaos.
"I'll take care of everything," Job said, leading us inside with the quiet confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
A woman, dressed in scrubs, met us at the door. Her eyes were soft, but sharp, and there was a gentleness in the way she spoke as she guided me to a small room. "You need rest," she said. "The pain will fade once you lie down."
Jason stepped back, his body tense, but he didn't stop me. I let her help me settle onto the bed, the sheets cool against my skin. She gave me a pill—something for the pain, she said.
Job came in a few minutes later with two cups of tea. "Chamomile," he said with a small smile. "Helps you relax."
I accepted the cup, and Jason did the same, though he was still suspicious. We sat together, letting the quiet soak in. The warmth from the tea settled deep, spreading through me like a calm tide. My eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion catching up with me.
The woman left us alone, and Job stood by the door, his back to us now.
I turned to Jason, but he was already sinking into the chair beside me, eyes closing, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in hours. "You trust him?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He nodded, though I could still see the faint lines of doubt on his face. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I don't have a better option."
Everything felt slow, like time itself had stretched. The warmth from the tea was comforting. Too comforting.
And then, just like that, my head dropped back into the pillows. The last thing I heard before the darkness closed in was Job's voice.
"Rest. It'll be over soon."