“You’re late,” Isabella said, her voice soft but tethered with concern. She set her book down, marking the page with a finger, her brow faintly furrowed.

Evelyn shut the door behind her with a dull click, the sound swallowed by the quiet hum of the apartment. She leaned back against the wood, letting it bear her weight as her shadowed green eyes landed on Isabella.

“Case doesn’t exactly clock out,” Evelyn replied, words clipped, as if she were trying to push them past the ache settling in her bones. Her lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smirk if it weren’t so weighed down. Isabella rose, her movements fluid, as if choreographed by her nature. Her emerald eyes roamed over Evelyn, absorbing every detail: the rumpled clothes, the faint tremor in her hands. She could read the strain as plainly as ink on paper.

“You haven’t slept.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not a wink,” Evelyn admitted, peeling off her coat and tossing it onto the back of a chair. She fished her cigarette case from its pocket, her fingers deft despite their weariness. But she stilled under Isabella’s gaze, sharp and unyielding, even in its warmth.

“No smoking inside,” Isabella said. Her tone carried the same gentle firmness as a tide that knows it will wear down the shore.

“You know, for a marine biologist, you’re awfully particular about air quality,” Evelyn quipped, her dry humor intact despite her weariness. She pushed off the door and made her way to the couch, collapsing into it with a sigh that felt like it came from her very bones.

Isabella perched beside her, close enough for comfort but not smothering.

“Anything new?” she asked, her voice quieter now, as if softer tones could coax the tension from Evelyn’s shoulders.

Evelyn reached over and fished a battered notebook from her jacket, the leather creaking as she flipped it open to a mess of rough sketches and scrawled notes.

“Enchanted locket,” she said, tapping a page with the back of a fingernail. “Locked tight. Thought about smashing it, but that’d be like solving a puzzle with a sledgehammer—doesn’t get you answers, just a mess.”

“Smart call,” Isabella murmured, her eyes catching on Evelyn’s hands, the way they hovered over the notebook like the thing might vanish if she touched it wrong.

“Spoke to an elf called Elara—she's worried about the sigil I found,” Evelyn admitted, flipping a few pages over to show the sketch she had drawn. “Said it’s old magic. Dangerous.”

"Then when I went back to Alaric's workshop," she continued. "Ran into the golem, Gregor, that I saw in the newspaper article."

“Elara and Gregor?” Isabella repeated, frowning. “Who are they?”

“First one's a sorceress who knows more than she’s letting on. And Gregor? He's built like a steel-plated cathedral. He’s harmless, by the way, before you ask. Just a pile of gears and good manners. They’re tied up in this mess somehow. Haven’t figured out how deep yet.”

Isabella’s brow tightened, a faint shadow crossing her usually bright expression. “And you’re trusting them?”

Evelyn’s reply was sharp, but steady. “I don’t trust anyone in this business. You play nice just long enough to get what you need.”

Isabella shifted closer, the faint brush of her arm against Evelyn’s carrying a weight she didn’t put to words. Her voice dropped, edged with concern.

“Evelyn, you’re diving headfirst into something dark, and I’m… I’m worried. Really worried.”

Evelyn’s hand paused on her notebook, her green eyes meeting Isabella’s.

“I’m careful,” she said, voice firm but not unkind. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Are you?” Isabella’s voice softened, but the worry beneath it sharpened the edges of her words. “When you’re out all night, chasing shadows—literally—and talking to people who’d think twice about hurting you? Or worse, wouldn’t think at all?”

A dry laugh escaped Evelyn’s lips, her fingers flicking the notebook shut with a crisp snap. She leaned back, folding one leg over the other as if to barricade herself from the conversation’s weight.

“You make it sound like I’m charging into burning buildings,” she said, an eyebrow arching in faint amusement, though her gaze didn’t waver from Isabella’s.

“Aren’t you?” Isabella said quietly, leaning closer. Her hand rested lightly on Evelyn’s arm, grounding her. “I’m not asking you to stop. I know better than that. Just… let me help. Tell me what's going on in your mind.”

For a moment, Evelyn hesitated. Her instincts told her to keep the locket and its implications close to the chest, but Isabella’s steady gaze cut through her resolve. She pulled the chair closer with a boot and reached into one pocket, careful not to move the arm Isabella was holding. Sliding the locket from her jacket's pocket and lifting it up for the both of them to see, the warm golden yellow light glinting off its silver surface.

“That’s what we’re working with,” Evelyn said, her tone as dry as the stale air in the room. “Locked up tighter than a bank vault. But it’s heavy—feels like there’s more in there than cheap trinkets. Gregor’s convinced it’s tied to Alaric’s research, the same work that got him killed.”

Isabella leaned her head against Evelyn’s shoulder, her chestnut waves brushing against Evelyn's neck and bank. Her gaze stayed fixed on the intricate magic sigil carved into the surface of the object, her brow furrowed like she was trying to puzzle it open with sheer will.

“And you can’t open it at all?” she asked, her voice quiet, not an echo of Evelyn’s earlier words but a genuine thread of curiosity, spun soft and thoughtful.

"Not for lack of effort," Evelyn muttered, her voice clipped, the frustration still fresh. “Tools, spells, cursing at it under my breath—nothing.”

Isabella’s lips tightened, her usual warmth replaced by a quiet determination. "And Elara? What did she say about it?"

Evelyn’s jaw set, her tone sharpening. "Found them the other way around," she corrected. The memory of her oversight bristled like a splinter under her skin. If she’d uncovered it the night of the murder, it might’ve been enough to lay it bare in front of Elara. Instead, she’d been left scrambling after the fact, piecing together what should’ve been obvious.

Isabella’s fingers drifted over the locket, her touch deliberate, as though testing the texture of a memory. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, her voice dipping into a reverent murmur, the kind she used when talking about coral reefs or rare sea life.

"Feels like it’s laughing at me."

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Isabella’s brow knitted, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. The silence between them hung taut, broken only by the faint clink of the locket’s chain brushing against her fingers.

“But it’s... strange,” she said finally, her tone carrying a hesitant curiosity. She tilted her head, studying the locket as though it might whisper its secrets to her. “There’s a weight to it, like it’s alive. Almost like a heartbeat.”

Evelyn’s sharp green eyes lingered on the locket, shadows pooling in her expression. She said nothing, but her posture stiffened, as if the locket’s imaginary pulse might sync too closely with something buried in her chest.

“That’s not comforting,” Evelyn quipped, but her lips curled into the faintest smirk. She set the locket on the wire table next to them, rubbing the back of her neck. The loft’s warm glow wrapped around them, softening the edges of her exhaustion. “And it’s not the only thing that’s strange.” Isabella shifted, tucking her legs tighter beneath her, settling fully onto the couch. She leaned into Evelyn, her warmth anchoring the moment.

“Go on,” she said, her voice soft but with an edge that left no room for retreat.

Evelyn exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, tracing the uneven patterns in the plaster like they held the words she needed.

“When I found him—Alaric—he was clutching a flask.” Her voice tightened, a thread of steel winding through it. “It had a residue, Alaric's apprentice recognized it as Sablebane.”

Isabella tilted her head against Evelyn’s shoulder, her brow pulling into a knot.

“Sablebane?” she echoed, her voice carrying a note of restrained disbelief. “That’s not…” She hesitated, lips pursing before continuing. “I’ve heard of it. Marine labs get whispers about it sometimes through the trade grapevine. It’s black-market stuff, Evelyn. Dangerous enough that it makes your skin crawl just thinking about it.”

She shifted, her legs tucked tighter under her as though the mere mention of the substance made her want to retreat. “Do you know the hoops we have to jump through at the lab just to get a fraction of a drop? And that’s for legitimate research! And don't get me started—” A genuine smile started to grow on Evelyn's lips, as she sat there letting Isabella vent and rant about her work. Happy just to listen, as she tilted her head to rest against Isabella's.

“The paperwork alone is a nightmare because, well, it _is_ deadly. Almost untraceable, too. What the hell was he doing with it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Evelyn admitted, her voice low. Her fingers tapped a restless rhythm on her thigh. “I couldn’t tell if he’d been trying to hide it or drink it. Either way, it didn’t end well for him.”

Isabella’s hand covered Evelyn’s, stilling the motion. “You think someone gave it to him?” she asked. There was a tightness in her voice now, a crack in her usual optimism.

“Or he got it himself. Either way, it’s tied to this.” Evelyn gestured toward the locket with her free hand. “And maybe to the sigil etched into his lab’s wall. It’s like some bad pulp novel—esoteric symbols, mysterious poison, and a dead alchemist in the middle of it all.”

Isabella shook her head slightly, her curls slipping over Evelyn's shoulder.

“No, it’s worse than a pulp novel. It’s real.” She reached out to the locket, her fingers brushing its cold surface. “Have you tried… I don’t know, shadow stuff on it?”

Evelyn’s smirk returned, sharper this time. “Shadow stuff?”

“You know what I mean,” Isabella said, her voice lighter now, almost teasing. She gave Evelyn a playful nudge with her shoulder. “That thing you do. Moving in and out of the shadows. Can you… feel anything when you do?”

“Haven’t tried,” Evelyn admitted. “Not sure I want to, honestly. Feels like whatever’s in there doesn’t want me poking around.”

“But you will.” Isabella’s words weren’t a question; they carried the quiet certainty of someone who knew Evelyn better than she let on. Her fingers squeezed Evelyn’s hand briefly before letting go. “You always do.”

Evelyn turned her head to look at her, their eyes meeting in the golden light. There was no need for words in that moment. Isabella’s steady presence, her warmth, was an anchor Evelyn hadn’t realized she needed until she had it.

“I will,” Evelyn said finally, her voice softer. Then she leaned forward, grabbing the locket and holding it up again. “But not tonight. Tonight, I’m off the clock.”

Isabella’s smile softened into something that caught the light, warm and unhurried. “Good. Because I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’ve had a proper meal and at least six hours of sleep.” Her voice carried a gentle certainty, the kind Evelyn couldn’t argue with even if she wanted to.

“Bossy,” Evelyn murmured, the word slipping out without its usual edge. Her fingers grazed the locket for a moment longer, the metal cool against her touch, before she set it back on the coffee table with a quiet clink. The gesture felt heavier than it should’ve, as though letting it go was an act of will.

She shifted, wrapping an arm around Isabella, her grip instinctive but steady, drawing her closer. Isabella tucked herself into the curve of Evelyn’s body like she belonged there, her legs tucked neatly under her. The room held its quiet, the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen the only sound that dared interrupt.

“You’re avoiding dinner,” Isabella said softly, her voice teasing but gentle, like the tide kissing the shore.

Evelyn’s lips curved faintly against the warmth of Isabella’s neck.

“Avoiding? No, I’m prioritizing. Dinner can wait. This? This… would be a waste to cut short.” Her breath was warm against Isabella’s skin, her words threaded with that familiar dry humor that always managed to hide just enough of her vulnerability.

Isabella chuckled, the sound low and throaty, as her fingers trailed idly along Evelyn’s shoulder. “You’re just hoping I’ll forget about it entirely.”

Evelyn tilted her head slightly, just enough to brush her lips along Isabella’s collarbone.

“Caught me,” she murmured, her voice carrying that mix of nonchalance and intimacy that could make even the mundane feel charged. “But you’re not exactly fighting me off.”

Isabella’s fingers stilled against her shoulder, and Evelyn felt the way her chest rose and fell, a quiet laugh shaking through her.

“Why would I? You’re warm, and I’m tired of pretending this couch isn’t too small for two people.”

Evelyn shifted slightly, pulling Isabella closer until their bodies fit together more snugly.

“It’s not the couch,” she said, voice low and almost a rumble. “You just like excuses to get me closer.”

Isabella’s laugh was brighter this time, spilling into the cozy quiet of the studio. “If you knew how ridiculous you sound.”

“Not ridiculous if it’s true,” Evelyn countered. She tilted her head to catch Isabella’s eyes, the green in them gleaming faintly in the warm light streaming through the loft’s curtains. There was a pause, a heartbeat where the room seemed to hold its breath, the salt-kissed air between them thick and still. Then Isabella’s lips found hers.

The kiss was unhurried at first, more exploration than urgency, as if both women were testing how much of the day’s exhaustion they could melt away with touch alone. Isabella’s hand slid up to cradle the back of Evelyn’s neck, fingers threading gently through the loose strands of dark hair. Evelyn’s arms tightened around her, a subtle pull that spoke volumes without words.

When Isabella broke the kiss to breathe, her lips hovered just shy of Evelyn’s. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“It’s one of my better qualities,” Evelyn replied, her voice softer now, a rough edge smoothed by affection. This time Evelyn dipped her head, brushing a kiss along Isabella’s jawline, then lower, grazing the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

Isabella’s breath hitched, her hand tightening briefly at the nape of Evelyn’s neck before she let out a shaky laugh. “And persistent. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing?” Evelyn murmured against her skin, her voice rich with mock innocence. She kissed her way back up, slow and deliberate, lingering at the corner of Isabella’s mouth. “I’m just making the most of the moment. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? To savor things?”

Isabella’s response came in the form of another kiss, this one deeper, more insistent. The earlier teasing faded, replaced by a quiet intensity that filled the room. Evelyn matched her pace, the world outside the studio slipping further and further away as the two melted into each other, lost in the soft rhythm of lips and breath and the warmth that pressed between them.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathing a little heavier, Isabella let her head rest against Evelyn’s shoulder. The weight of her felt grounding, steadying.

“You’re going to need dinner eventually,” Isabella murmured, her voice quieter now, touched with a note of surrender.

Evelyn smirked, resting her chin lightly atop Isabella’s head.

“Eventually. But not now.” She pressed a kiss into her hair, savoring the way Isabella’s scent—sea salt and something faintly floral—mingled with the air. Isabella let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing fully into Evelyn’s hold.

“Fine. But don’t think this gets you out of washing the dishes later.”

Evelyn chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Deal.”