[150 Days Left to Live]
The morning light crept softly into the apartnt, casting a golden glow over the dining room. The kettle on the stove whistled, releasing steam into the air, and the quiet hum of the fridge was the only other sound.
Kendrick sat at the kitchen counter, his hands wrapped around a warm mug of coffee. The sll was comforting, but his eyes were distant, fixed on the digital tablet resting in front of him.
He tapped the screen and pulled up the latest surveillance feed. A grainy image of a hotel corridor flickered into view. The figure on-screen, Barmon Diamond, strode past the cara, wearing sunglasses and a neutral expression. Sa clothes as yesterday. Sa movents. Sa dead-end routine.
Kendrick narrowed his eyes.
For the past few days, Kendrick had been spending most of his ti inside a sealed, high-tech monitoring room tucked behind a hidden panel in their apartnt.
Cassius had asked him to personally track Barmon Diamond’s movents, and he had accepted the task without hesitation. Not just because Cassius asked, but because deep down, Kendrick believed that Barmon was more than he appeared.
The sa man Detective Reynold Draven had tried to chase during the Diamond Hotel ribbon-cutting event, now hidden behind a fake na, walking carefully, too carefully.
And because Kendrick believed Barmon had sothing to do with what happened twelve years ago.
"Co on, man. Do sothing," Kendrick muttered, his voice tired. His elbow rested on the table as he leaned forward. But Barmon continued to act like a tourist on an extended vacation.
The door to the hallway creaked open. Zephany stepped out from her room, wearing her usual modest blouse and skirt. Her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose, and she had one shoe on while hopping as she struggled to put on the other.
"I’m late again. Why does ti always fly faster when I have an article due?" she said, mostly to herself.
Kendrick looked up from his tablet. A smile tugged on the corner of his lips. "You forgot your ID again."
Zephany froze mid-hop. "No, I didn’t."
He reached behind the fruit bowl and held it up.
Her face turned red as she rushed forward, taking it from him. "Thanks. You’re a lifesaver."
"You said that yesterday too," he teased gently.
She gave him a weak smile. "You must think I’m hopeless."
Kendrick stood and walked over to the door, opening it for her. "Not hopeless. Just... distracted."
"Distracted journalist. That should be my official title," she joked, tying her hair into a quick ponytail. "Don’t forget to eat. You’ve been locked in your room for five days. You’re not a machine, you know. I hardly see you these days—except for breakfast. Are you in trouble? Need so help?"
"I’ll eat. And I’m fine. Just been busy with a part-ti online job lately. Thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it."
Zephany looked at him, worry flickering in her eyes. "And maybe go out for a bit? Get so air?"
"I’ll try."
She hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say more. But then she smiled and gave a small wave. "Okay. I’ll see you later. Get so rest. You look like you could use so sleep."
"I’ll try," he said, offering a tired half-smile.
She paused in the doorway. "Seriously. Don’t burn yourself out."
"I won’t," he said quietly, watching as she left.
Once the door closed, Kendrick walked down the hallway, past the neatly organized bookshelf and into the locked monitoring room. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss.
The lights ca to life with a low hum, revealing walls filled with screens, maps, and real-ti feeds. He sat at the main desk, where his custom-built surveillance system showed various cara angles of Barmon Diamond’s current hideout.
The man was staying at a luxury hotel in the city under a fake na—Gideon Bares. The forged passport had passed all standard security checks, but Kendrick had flagged it the mont he saw the grainy photo.
So far, Barmon hadn’t made contact with anyone. No calls. No etings. No strange movents. Just room service, occasional walks, and lounging near the hotel pool.
But Kendrick didn’t believe for a second that this man was clean. Not after their past interaction. Still, he looked so damn innocent.
He zood in on the man’s face. Calm. Collected. Like he had nothing to hide.
"Too calm," Kendrick whispered.
The phone rang. He picked it up without checking.
"Anything happened?" Cassius’s voice ca through, smooth and direct.
"Nothing yet. He’s still at the hotel. No changes," Kendrick replied.
Cassius paused. "Stay on him. If he slips, I want to know first."
"Copy that." Kendrick hung up.
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that sothing was coming, sothing hidden beneath the surface of Barmon’s stillness. And it frustrated him, how close and yet how far the truth seed.
The monitor showed Barmon ordering breakfast from room service. Kendrick made notes on the ti, the dish, and the staff assigned to deliver it. He had logs of everything. Maybe if he couldn’t catch Barmon in the act, he could at least catch a pattern.
He clicked to review footage from four nights ago. Sa routine. Sa hotel floor. Sa midnight walk. Yet Kendrick’s gut said otherwise. Sothing was happening beneath that polished surface.
His hands hovered above the keyboard. He began cross-checking known associates, digging into the hotel guest list. Quiet operations were often distractions. And if Barmon was quiet, then maybe soone else was about to make the noise.
He zood in again. Watched. Waited.
Outside, the day moved on. But inside the room, ti felt frozen. Each second dragging longer than the last.
His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, on Barmon’s relaxed posture as he sipped wine on the hotel balcony. He looked like just another rich man enjoying his afternoon. But Kendrick knew better.
His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, lost in thought. Watching Barmon now only reminded him how it all began.
Their first encounter four years ago.
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