The First Trigger

London’s pale morning light crept between the blinds as Adrian Voss fastened his watch and adjusted the collar of his black shirt. The apartment around him was silent as ever — cold tiles, clean surfaces, a fresh suit hanging by the door. Every part of his morning ran like clockwork: shower, espresso, case notes review.

Just as he buttoned his cuff, his phone rang.

He checked the screen: Nathan Brooks.

“Hello, good morning,” Adrian answered, calm as always.

“Adrian! Get here fast,” Nathan’s voice was breathless on the other end. “There’s a new case waiting for you — and this one’s… strange.”

Adrian narrowed his eyes. “Strange how?”

“You’ll see. It’s not just another file — this one’s different.”

Adrian’s mind sharpened. He didn’t ask more. Instead, he slipped his phone into his coat pocket, picked up his investigation satchel — always packed with gloves, notebooks, and digital tools — and left.

Downstairs, Victor Hale was already waiting in the car.

“To the office,” Adrian said.

Victor gave a small nod and pulled into the soft drizzle of London’s grey streets. Buildings passed in a blur of glass and brick. Adrian sat back, staring at the traffic with a mind already racing toward whatever lay ahead.

As the car pulled up to his office — a modern steel-and-glass structure nestled between older stone façades — Adrian stepped out and climbed the wide concrete steps.

Then he stopped.

Mid-step.

A flash.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

For a moment — just a blink — the world around him melted away, and in its place he saw a girl.

She was lying motionless on a cold metal table. Pale skin, dark hair, blank eyes staring upward. The fluorescent light above her flickered in eerie silence.

And just like that — the image vanished.

Adrian grabbed his forehead. Cold sweat kissed his temples. He wasn’t one to panic — not ever — but his pulse skipped.

“What the hell was that…” he muttered under his breath.

“Adrian!” came a voice from the door. Nathan.

He looked up, composed himself. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Nathan’s eyes lingered a second longer. “You sure? You look pale.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Adrian followed him in, pushing the image aside like he would push a misplaced detail in a case. But something about it stuck — not fear, but familiarity.

Inside, the office was buzzing. Staff at their desks. Files being copied. Voices low and efficient.

Nathan handed him a brown envelope. “It’s a murder. Girl. No signs of struggle. No forced entry. No fingerprints. Just… her, on a table, like she was placed there. Alone.”

Adrian’s hands tightened on the folder.

“Where?” he asked.

“East End. Police want discretion. No leaks. They want your take.”

Adrian opened the file.

And froze.

A photograph. Crime scene. The girl’s face.

The same girl. The same position. The same flickering light. Everything exactly as he saw it in the vision minutes ago.

But how?

He didn’t say a word.

Nathan was watching him. “You okay?”

Adrian slowly nodded. “Yeah… Just tired.”

He placed the folder on his desk but kept looking at the image, as if by sheer force of will he could find a flaw — some hint that it was all just a trick of the mind.

But there wasn’t.

This wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t logical.

And Adrian Voss did not believe in anything outside logic.

Yet here it was.

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