Page 13 of Midnight at the Magnolia

Alex steps closer, the dim streetlight illuminating features I’d tried so hard to forget. The scar that runs from his left eye to his jaw, a souvenir from the night that changed everything. Thecrooked smile that had once made my heart race for entirely different reasons.

He looks good for a dead man. Too good.

“Reports of my death were... greatly exaggerated,” he says, his tone light but his eyes hard as flint. “We need to talk, Celeste.”

And just like that, my carefully laid plans shatter like glass, leaving me standing on the precipice of a decision that will change everything. The air around us seems to crackle with tension, thick with unspoken history and dangerous possibilities.

“No,” I snarl, spinning on my heel and fleeing into the night. It’s not my proudest moment, but self-preservation wins out over curiosity. I can’t deal with this, not now, not with everything else hanging in the balance.

Alex’s laughter follows me home, a haunting reminder of a past I can’t escape and a future growing more uncertain by the second.

5

ETHAN

CASE FILE UPDATE

Victim analysis shows killer has extensive knowledge of local flora. Agent Blake notes possible connection to traditional herbalists, family practices.

The humid nightair clings to my skin, heavy with the scent of jasmine and sin. I wait outside the Magnolia Diner, my heart a caged animal against my ribs, while my mind catalogs every detail with practiced precision.

Two security cameras on the corner—one broken.

Three possible escape routes.

A drunk tourist stumbling past, his wallet an easy target in his back pocket.

Old habits die hard.

What the hell am I doing, agreeing to let a potential witness—maybe even a suspect—show me around New Orleans?

Lauren’s voice echoes in my head:“Your instincts are good, but your heart’s always been your blind spot.”She wasn’t wrong then, and she’s not wrong now.

My hand unconsciously touches my shoulder holster, hidden beneath my jacket.

Lauren would laugh at that too.“Always armed, never prepared for the real dangers—the ones that steal your heart before they break it.”

But Celeste... God, Celeste isn’t just any witness. She’s a labyrinth of secrets, each turn more alluring and deadly than the last. A part of me—the trained investigator, the man who watched Lauren die because he missed something crucial—wants to unravel her mysteries, to expose the truth hidden beneath her enigmatic smile.

The other part? The other part wants to see just how deep this rabbit hole goes, even if it means getting lost along the way.

“Ready to see the real New Orleans, Agent Blake?” Her voice, low and smoky, sends a shiver down my spine.

I turn, and the world tilts on its axis.

Gone is the diner uniform, replaced by a black dress that hugs curves like a second skin. But it’s the details that set off my professional alarms—the dress is cut for ease of movement, not just show. Her heels are practical beneath their polish. Her small clutch sits at the perfect angle for quick access. Every choice calculated, just like Lauren described in her last case notes about surveillance subjects.

I run a hand through my own dark hair, suddenly aware of my rumpled appearance—the loosened tie, the day-old stubble that shadows my jaw. Next to Celeste’s effortless grace, I feel like a bull in a china shop, all hard angles and rough edges.

“I’m off duty,” I manage, my mouth suddenly dry. “Call me Ethan. Although I’m not sure I’m ever really off duty in this city.”

Lauren’s voice again:“You’re never off duty because you’re hiding from something. The question is, what?”

Celeste’s smile is a dangerous thing, sharp enough to draw blood. “Alright, Ethan. Shall we?” She moves with a predator’sgrace that my training screams to notice. Too aware of her surroundings. Too precise in her movements. Too perfect.

Christ, Blake, what have you gotten yourself into?

We plunge into the pulsing heart of the French Quarter, and I find myself cataloging details out of habit—security camera positions, entrance and exit routes, sight lines across streets.

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