Shadows Between the Heartbeats

Love and danger collide beneath the city’s hidden, shadowed past.

The rain had a way of turning the old city into something otherworldly. Neon from the upper streets bled into puddles along the cobblestones, each ripple distorting reflections of faceless strangers. Aria Voss walked quickly, the strap of her leather satchel biting into her shoulder. Inside was a roll of parchment older than the city's oldest tower, freshly restored after weeks of painstaking work. She knew the museum would pay well, but lately, payment felt secondary to safety.
The museum's entrance loomed ahead, a sandstone facade darkened by time. Inside, the air smelled faintly of varnish and history. Aria kept her head down until she heard a voice that made her pause.
"You're late. That's not like you."
Julian Kade stood near a marble column, his hair damp from the rain, a crooked half-smile on his lips. He looked like someone who belonged in the pages of a magazine, except for the faint bruise along his jaw and the faint scent of cigarette smoke clinging to him.
"I wasn't aware we had an appointment," Aria replied, walking past him toward the reception desk.
"We don't. I'm here for something else, but..." His eyes dropped to the satchel. "That wouldn't happen to be the Harrow Parchment, would it?"
She froze, just for a second. "And if it is?"
Julian's smile didn't change, but his voice softened. "Then I'd say you're carrying something people have died for."
Before she could respond, Eveline Hart emerged from the shadows of the hall, her long gray coat flowing around her like a cloak. "Aria. Bring it in. We'll talk in my office." She nodded politely to Julian. "You can wait outside."
Julian gave a mock salute. "Wouldn't dream of intruding."
Eveline's office was lined with glass cases of artifacts, each tagged with meticulous notes. Aria placed the parchment on the table.
"It's perfect," Eveline murmured, unrolling it carefully. "You've restored it beautifully. But there's something you should know. A man named Damien Crowe has been asking about it."
Aria frowned. "The collector?"
"The predator," Eveline corrected, her tone sharp. "He hides behind auctions and galleries, but he deals in more than art. And if he's after this parchment, he's after what's hidden in its text."
Aria leaned closer, scanning the faded ink. Symbols, not words, spiraled across the surface. "I thought this was just a map fragment."
"It is. And it isn't." Eveline glanced toward the door. "Be careful. Crowe's people don't ask twice."
When Aria left the office, Julian was still there, leaning against the wall with a paper cup of coffee. He offered it to her. "Peace offering."
She shook her head. "You always hang around museums waiting for women with dangerous jobs?"
"Only the interesting ones," he said. Then his voice dropped. "Crowe's men were outside earlier. You should take the long way home."
Aria studied him for a moment. His eyes, though tired, were earnest. She hated that she believed him.
That night, the long way home wasn't long enough.
Halfway through a narrow alley, she heard footsteps behind her. She quickened her pace. The footsteps quickened too. A hand brushed her shoulder and she spun, her satchel swinging forward like a shield. A man in a dark coat reached for it, but before he could grab it, another figure emerged from the opposite end of the alley.
Julian.
He didn't say a word, just moved in fast, shoving the attacker against the wall. The man hissed something in a language Aria didn't recognize, then bolted into the shadows.
Julian turned to her. "You alright?"
Her heart pounded in her ears. "I don't need you following me."
"Too bad," he said, his breathing ragged. "Because you're in over your head."
"I can take care of myself."
He smiled faintly. "You're good. But Crowe plays a different game. And I think you've just been invited to it."

The next morning, Aria found herself in a quiet caftwo blocks from her apartment, waiting for someone she wasn't sure she should trust. Julian arrived five minutes late, tossing a folded newspaper on the table.
The headline read: Collector Damien Crowe Announces Private Exhibit of Unseen Antiquities.
"Guess what's on display next week," Julian said.
She scanned the article and froze when she saw the grainy photo -- part of the Harrow Parchment, the same fragment she had just finished restoring.
"That's impossible," she said.
"Unless," Julian replied, "there's more than one piece. Which means if Crowe gets yours, he'll have the complete map. And I'm guessing whatever it leads to isn't just a pretty mural."
Aria stared at him. "Why do you care?"
Julian's smile faltered. "Because three years ago, a friend of mine tried to expose Crowe's underground dealings. She disappeared. If this map leads to proof, I'm not letting him get it."
Aria wanted to walk away. She wanted to tell him this wasn't her fight. But something in his voice, low and almost raw, kept her in her seat.
"Fine," she said. "We do this my way. And if you get in the way, I walk."
Julian's grin returned. "I'll take my chances."

They spent the next two days in the city's archives, poring over old maps and coded documents. The more they found, the more the air between them shifted -- not just charged with danger, but with something unspoken.
Late one evening, as they bent over a faded blueprint of the old city tunnels, Julian's hand brushed hers. She didn't move it away.
"You ever wonder," he said softly, "why people risk everything for things buried in the past?"
She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Because the past always finds a way to reach us."
Something flickered in his expression, but before he could speak, the library lights flickered. The security guard's voice echoed from the main hall.
"Everyone out. Now."
Julian folded the blueprint quickly. "We need to go. Crowe's people were here."

That night, in her apartment, Aria couldn't sleep. The rain was heavier now, battering against her windows. She thought of Julian's eyes in the dim library light, of Eveline's warning, of the man in the alley. She thought of the parchment, still rolled tightly in her satchel.
When her phone buzzed, she expected it to be Eveline.
It was a message from an unknown number.
You have something that belongs to me. Bring it to the old clock tower by midnight. Come alone.
The sender's name was Damien Crowe.