Chapter 19

It’s been a week since I’ve been back at work. Thankfully, I am off desk duty and able to get into action if needed. The number of emails that have piled up in my inbox is overwhelming, but I’m pushing through.

Someone knocked on my door, an unfamiliar knock. The door opened to show Morgan, his signature smirk already in place.

“You’re looking a lot more like yourself, I see,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Morgan. It’s good to be back.”

He stepped into the office, his gaze flicking to the piles of paperwork scattered across my desk. “I’ll take that as a sign you’re getting back to work, huh?”

“Trying to,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s a lot to catch up on, but I’m getting there.”

He chuckled. “Knowing you, you’ll have this all cleared by tomorrow. Just… try not to work yourself to death, kid.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving the door open and a ghost of warmth in his place.

Four coffees down and a matcha later, I was powering through the day—mostly filing paperwork and listening to music. After finishing the last of the files, I headed to drop off some documents for Hotch to sign.

That’s when I ran into Section Chief Erin Strauss.

We never did get along. Not after everything that happened a couple of years ago. We weren’t on speaking terms, and I’d forgotten I’d be working under her again.

“L/n,” she called out as she stepped off the elevator, her voice carrying just enough to pull me—and the nearby team—into the moment. Heads subtly turned, colleagues watching for any sign of the clash they expected.

She kept walking toward me, eyes steady. “I want to talk. I know our last encounter wasn’t exactly… healthy. But since you’re on the team now, I think we should clear the air.”

“We are talking,” I said quickly, cutting to the chase. “So what’s your point?”

She hesitated, then softened. “How about coffee? On me. And I want to apologize for what happened back in 2019. I let my ego get in the way. I hope it hasn’t been a burden on you.”

I studied her for a beat, then nodded. “All is forgiven. It took me a while to get over how it all ended, but I’ve worked through it. Maybe you should, too.”

She gave a small, almost relieved smile. “This is me trying, Y/N. I’ve come to terms with what happened with Agent Cera, but I don’t want friction between us anymore.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, giving her a small/fake smile.

I walked up to Hotch’s office and dropped off the paperwork for him to sign. On my way back, I spotted the rest of the team gathered in the bullpen, deep in conversation—about me, no doubt. Everyone had seen the hallway moment with Strauss, and now they were trying to piece it together.

I made my way over, trying to act casual.

“Well, L/N, you’ve got some explaining to do,” Emily said, giving me a light punch on the arm.

I winced a little harder than I meant to.

She froze. “Wait—did I actually hurt you?”

Before I could answer, Garcia breezed into the bullpen with her usual dramatic flair, holding a teddy bear and a small bouquet of balloons that read WELCOME BACK in pastel letters.

“This is addressed to you, my dear,” she said with a smile, handing it over.

“Ooooh, someone missed you,” Morgan added, smirking. “Secret admirer?”

I grinned, already reaching for the card tucked inside the bear’s ribbon. But the second I opened it, my smile dropped.

The card read:

ZUGZWANG

I stared at it for a second too long. The letters were all uppercase. No signature. Just that single, sharp word.

My hands suddenly felt cold.

“What does this mean?” I asked, holding up the card for the team to see.

Reid’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Zugzwang… It’s a chess term. A situation where every possible move makes things worse.”

Hotch stepped closer, reading the card over my shoulder. His jaw tightened.

“That’s not a gift,” he said quietly. “That’s a threat.”

He looked up, voice firm. “Everyone. Conference room. Ten minutes. I need to make a call.”

Ten minutes later, Strauss and Hotchner walked into the conference room looking very serious. She was saying that the director doesn’t like that we were being taunted and would like her to oversee the investigation. In my head, I was kicking and screaming.

“So, what are we looking at here?” Strauss asked as she took a seat.

Garcia took a deep breath and launched into it. “The Replicator is back. He killed one man and sewed his mouth shut—just like The Silencer case we closed two years ago. Another victim had his leg severed… and someone else’s leg sewn on in its place. Last one was a paralegal, found stuffed in a car trunk, all her joints dislocated. All of the victims mirror old BAU cases.”

She took another breath, clearly rattled. “And Philadelphia PD just added a new one to ViCAP. A man was found at a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Fake FBI gear. Execution-style shot to the head.”

“That’s not one of our previous cases, is it?” Reid asked, glancing around. “Could this be a personal message?”

Strauss and I locked eyes—both of us debating whether to speak. We knew exactly what it was.

I cleared my throat. “That is one of our old cases. Back in 2019, Strauss and I were co-leading a joint CIA-FBI op. Hostage situation. Five Bureau agents were taken.”

I tilted my head slightly toward Strauss, giving her space to speak if she wanted to.

She didn’t hesitate. “I held Y/N back. Ignored her field assessment. One of our agents was executed. Shot in the head, just like this.”

The room went quiet. No one moved. The weight of it settled in hard.

Hotch stood up, voice crisp. “Wheels up in twenty. We’re heading to Philly.”

Everyone started filing out. I turned to head back to my office when I heard footsteps behind me. JJ.

I opened the door, stepped inside, and left it open. She followed.

“I didn’t know that you and Strauss had a past,” JJ said, looking interested.

I gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, Strauss and I go back a couple of years.”

JJ tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“2019. Joint op—five FBI agents taken hostage. I had the intel, a clean plan. She didn’t want to listen.”

JJ’s expression tightened, her arms crossing as she leaned into the doorway.

“We argued. Mid-crisis. While we were too busy proving who was in charge, one of the hostages got a bullet to the head.”

Her gaze dropped, lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t interrupt.

“I went in anyway. Got the other four out. No fallout, no fanfare. Just silence. But Strauss never forgot that I didn’t follow her lead.”

JJ met my eyes, something flickering beneath her calm. “You did what she wouldn’t—you trusted your gut. I’ve been there. When the chain of command starts costing lives, sometimes the only right move is the one no one gives you permission to make.”

I gave her a wink as I lifted the handles of my bag. We both headed to our cars, but then I spotted Morgan, Prentiss, and—surprisingly—Reid, all with those pouty faces.

“Come on, SpeedRacer, wheels up in ten minutes! We’ve seen how you drive,” Morgan called out.

I unlocked my car, and everyone quickly tossed their bags in the trunk. Before long, we were airborne, en route to Philadelphia.

As we reviewed everything from the past three weeks, one thing was clear: the Replicator was escalating—growing bolder and more personal. All the previous copycat murders had happened close to the original crimes, mostly around D.C., so why the sudden shift to Philadelphia? He wasn’t just replaying old cases—he was building something bigger.

We landed in Philadelphia, and Reid, Prentiss, and I headed straight to the crime scene while the rest of the team made their way to the precinct to get set up.

As we approached the perimeter, I clocked the lead detective’s body language from a distance—tense, frustrated. This was going to be fun.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is a restricted area. Can I help you?” the detective snapped, stepping into our path.

I held up my credentials. “Agent L/N. These are my colleagues—Agent Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid.” I extended a hand for a handshake.

He looked at it, then right through me. No handshake. Just a narrowed stare.

“Feds?” he said, voice sharp. “No one told me you were jumping on this case.”

I gave him a casual smile. “Guess it slipped through the cracks. Now, unless you want me camping out here all night, how about you show us the victim?”

He didn’t answer, but he stepped aside. We ducked under the tape and began our sweep.

The body and surrounding area were a near-perfect replica of one of our past cases—just like the others. Nothing new. No prints. No fibers. Just another message.

As we were heading back, I caught the detective—Rizzo—watching me like I’d kicked his dog. I stared back, just as flat. I already knew he was going to be a problem. Guys like that always were.

Back at the precinct, I didn’t waste time. I flagged down Hotch immediately.

“Detective Rizzo’s not exactly thrilled we’re here,” I said. “Can you come with me to speak with Captain Jackson? I’d rather avoid a full-on pissing match.”

Hotch rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “Of course.”

I knocked on the captain’s door and stepped inside. “Captain Jackson. Pleasure to meet you—I’m Agent Y/N L/N.”

He stood and offered a firm handshake. “Likewise, Agent L/N. What can I do for you?”

I gave a polite smile. “I hate to bring this up, but I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page moving forward.”

The captain chuckled, already catching on. He leaned back in his chair. “Ah. I think I know where this is going.” Then he raised his voice. “Rizzo!”

Detective Rizzo came stomping in like a teenager called to the principal’s office, stiff and visibly annoyed.

Captain Jackson looked between us. “You’ve got our full cooperation on this case.”

He turned to Rizzo. “Isn’t that right, Detective?

His arms crossed, and he avoided eye contact. “I thought you needed three or more murders to establish federal jurisdiction.”

I didn’t miss a beat. “We have probable cause connecting your case to three others—different victims, different states, same signature.”

“Probable cause,” he repeated, tone sharp. “So you don’t actually know.”

I stepped forward, voice flat. “I could sit you down and walk you through it, or you could be a big boy, quit wasting time, and help us catch the son of a bitch who did this.”

We were locked in a stare, neither of us flinching—until Captain Jackson’s phone rang.

He picked it up, his eyes still on us. “Jackson. Ok,” He hung up. “Another body just turned up.”