Growing up, my father taught me that there were no monsters lurking under the beds, sharpening their claws to rip their prey to pieces.

The real monsters walked among us every day and went unnoticed because they looked no different from us. They were humans who were capable of doing the most heinous acts imaginable.

However, after that day, I got too caught in the fires of grief and hatred. I believed that the monsters I once thought lived under my bed had crept from underneath it and leaped into my brain.

One of those monsters was my old home, where all the dreadful things had taken place. But when I finally dared to face that monster, I realized it was all in my head, because the real monsters were still out there, roaming the world, free and unscathed...

A few weeks have passed since I visited the house, and I had to admit that it kind of helped me. My feelings had become vivid, which allowed me to process and handle them better. The nightmares had diminished in intensity; that in itself said a lot.

And I had to keep myself from thinking about that bizarre symbol case after the conversation I had with Wyatt. I did not know why I was so interested in it in the first place, but maybe because I knew my dad showed interest in it, too.

Nevertheless, there weren't a lot of clues when it came to it, and I knew it couldn't have had anything to do with my parents' murder. There were no marks left on the bodies or even anywhere at the scene.

So in the end, I figured that dwelling on a cold case that had little to no leads was just going to be a waste of time, yet a part of me just couldn't help itself...

Running my fingers through my hair, I let out a bored huff. I was currently trying to finish some of the boundless paperwork related to cases Liam and I had solved.

I looked at the mountain of files in front of me in resentment and cursed under my breath.

I was desperate for a new case, and that made me feel a little bad. A new case would mean someone was dead or in danger, but I really needed to get out of the office one way or another.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed an agent making his way toward my desk, a file in his hand. I allowed a fragment of hope to creep into me.

He finally stopped at my desk. "Agent Ryan, a man was found dead on a nearby street. NYPD insisted we should be involved. Will you and Agent Hunt look at it?"

"Sure," I spoke up, a little too excited than I intended to.

The agent looked at me with a raised eyebrow, obviously amazed by my sudden enthusiasm. "Okay, then you better get going because they are still analyzing the crime scene."

He handed me the file and walked away after giving me one last skeptical look.

He must have thought I was a freak for getting so excited over a murder case. I wouldn't try arguing with that, though.

Rising from my seat, I put my blazer on and started walking toward Liam's desk while reading through the file.

I made it to his desk and looked at him with a lopsided smile. "We have a new case."

He gave me an amused look, and I saw his mouth twitch into a little smile.

"I don't see the reason behind the smile, though."

I sighed. "I'm desperate for something that would keep my mind occupied. And I need an excuse to avoid all the paperwork for a while."

"Fine, what do we have here?" he asked, the smile still playing on his lips.

"A man was found dead on a side street a few hours ago, and the NYPD believes we should look into it."

He nodded and stood up from his seat, putting his suit jacket on.

"Oh, and I'm driving this time," I told him, waving my keys in front of his eyes.

He had a worried look on his face, but he knew better than to argue about it. So he just gave up, letting out a sigh, then walked next to me in silence toward the elevator.

***

We made it to the crime scene in a short time, as the crime had taken place on a nearby side street.

The scene was marked off with the familiar yellow police tape. And there were officers everywhere alongside the forensic team who were busy collecting evidence from the crime scene.

A lot of curious pedestrians were filling the area, trying to get a peek. We had quite a hard time passing through them before we could finally flash our badges in the face of a police officer who led us to the body.

My breath caught in my chest and my eyes widened in shock once they fell on the body.

The dead man was lying on his back, in a pool of his own blood that was now dry, gaining the color of a sickening shade of brown. He had a bullet wound in the area between his eyes and his t-shirt was torn off, revealing a mark that was carved on his chest with a hard object.

It was that same Chinese symbol...

Swallowing hard, I gazed at Liam. He looked as stunned as I was. I had already told him everything about that case, so he knew exactly what this meant.

Liam shared a quick look with me, and then he cleared his throat and turned his gaze to one of the officers. "What do we know about him?"

"His name is Mark Lewis, 29. He had a long criminal record and was arrested many times for different charges. Drug possession, theft, assault," the officer answered.

"Who was the first to find the body?" I asked, kneeling down beside the body to have a closer look.

"Me," a man in a garbage collector's uniform answered. "I was collecting the garbage from those bins here this morning when I found the body."

Signs of shock were still visible on his man's face, so I simply nodded to that answer. Poor man, what a view to start your day with.

I turned to one of the officers. "Did you find any bullet casings?"

The officer nodded, showing us a cartridge case wrapped in a plastic evidence bag.

I grabbed it from his hand and looked at it. Liam joined me.

"Ballistics confirmed the bullet came out of a .45 ACP," the officer said.

"We recognized this symbol the second we arrived at the scene."

Liam and I looked at the source of the voice. An officer who seemed to be older than the rest of his colleagues had just stepped into view.

He crossed his hands and directed his gaze toward the body. "It's not the first time I have seen it. So, I was sure the FBI would be interested, and that's why we immediately informed you."

Looking at him, I could tell from the look in his dark eyes that the long years he spent as a first responder had filled him with so much expertise and a lot of memories he probably wished he could erase.

I turned to look at the victim's body again, my eyes falling on the symbol over his chest. I sighed. The coincidence was mind-blowing.

"I don't believe in coincidences," Liam spoke as if he were reading what was going on in my mind. "This case fell into our hands for a reason. Maybe we're here now because we can find or do something the others couldn't."

"Yeah, maybe," I agreed, still looking at the symbol. Then I finally shifted my gaze and locked eyes with his blue ones. "I don't think being here would help us anymore. We need to look for leads somewhere else."

"I know. Maybe talking to the people who were close to him would help us."

I nodded in agreement.

We left the crime scene and kicked off with our journey to dig through the life that once belonged to our guy, Mark Lewis...

***

We found out that our guy lived alone, and the number of his family tree was close to zero. However, he had a close friend who was most likely the last person to have seen him alive. Lewis was seen hanging out with his friend in a nearby bar only a few hours before the predicted time of his death.

Liam and I wasted no time and went to that friend's house to talk to him. We knocked on the door a few times; a man in his early thirties opened the door. We showed him our badges.

"Sam Walsh. We're with the FBI and we need to ask you a few questions," Liam told him.

Walsh's eyes widened, and he quickly slammed the door in our faces.

Liam and I were a little taken aback by what had just happened, but we reacted quickly by pulling out our guns. The door was made of wood and not that strong, so Liam kicked it down easily. We walked in slowly, holding our guns tightly.

Sam Walsh was about to make an unthoughtful escape through the window, but he looked like he was stuck.

Liam and I both let out an exasperated sigh.

Liam walked to the window and pulled the man inside, then he cuffed him and read him the Miranda rights.

***

"So, Mr. Walsh. Do you know why you're here?" Liam asked, looking at the handcuffed man on the other side of the table coldly, his tone laced with authority.

The man shook his head, a smirk on his face. "I have no idea why the feds would be interested in me."

"Mr. Walsh, did you happen to know we found Mark Lewis dead early this morning?" I spoke up for the first time since we started the interrogation.

His eyes widened, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. He tried to hide his shock but failed. He swallowed hard before looking between us. "H—How did that happen?"

"He was shot in the head by a .45," I replied, maintaining my gaze on him. "We knew you were with him at some bar yesterday. We believe it was just a few hours before his death. Did he talk to you about anything? Maybe getting himself in trouble or receiving threats of any kind?"

"Nope," he answered, putting his cuffed hands on the table, making a clanging sound that echoed through the room. "All we did was drink beer and hit on pretty girls. Nothing more."

"Why am I not believing you?" I remarked, narrowing my eyes at him.

He smirked. "That's your problem, cupcake."

Feeling pissed off, I was about to snap at him, but Liam beat me to it.

"Listen, Sam," Liam said flatly. "We found a good amount of illegal drugs in your house, which is enough to make you spend a hell of a lot of time in prison."

The man looked paler as he swallowed hard.

"We are trying to solve a homicide case here, so if you help us by telling us whatever you know—and I'm certain you know something. We will consider offering you immunity or dropping the rest of the charges," Liam continued.

"Besides, don't you want to find whoever killed your friend?" I added.

The man looked at both of us with uncertain eyes. I could see that he was running our offer through his head. Torn between helping us and being labeled a snitch among his felon peers.

He finally scoffed. "Mark had done a lot of bad stuff that I can't even start to count, but he wasn't a murderer and he hated to get blood on his hands."

Liam and I shared a confused look.

"What do you mean?" Liam asked.

"Mark came to the bar yesterday and I could sense that something was off about him. He told me he saw two men killing another man before throwing his body into the river. He was terrified that they might have seen him." Walsh lowered his head and tried to hide the tremors in his hands as he moved them and folded them in his lap. "He was even willing to go to the cops and tell them about what he saw. But as you can see, they didn't give him a chance."

"Did he see their faces?" I asked.

"No, he told me it was too dark. But he heard them speaking a foreign language. He wasn't sure what it was, though," he replied.

I was about to ask something else, but the door of the interrogation room opened, and an agent walked in. He had light brown hair and green eyes, and he seemed to be around Liam. I didn't remember seeing him before, so he had to be from another unit.

"I'm sorry, Agents, but I'm afraid your time here is over," he said, looking between Liam and me.

"Excuse me?" Liam replied, raising one of his eyebrows.

"I'm Special Agent Ian Craven from the organized crime division," he said, showing us his badge. "This case belongs to us, so I'm going to take it from here."

Wyatt's words started hitting me. He told me that the organized crime division took over everything related to this case. That meant we were not allowed to work on it anymore.

Damn it!