Dexter Morgan swore he was seeing a ghost the moment you stepped into the blood analysis lab.

Six months had passed since Brian Moser, his long-lost biological brother—the Ice Truck Killer—had kidnapped Debra and forced Dexter into an unthinkable choice. Six months since Dexter had drawn the blade across Brian’s throat, watching the life drain out of the only person who had ever truly understood the darkness inside him.

He’d tried to bury the memory. He couldn’t.

And then you appeared.

Everything about you tugged at that old, raw wound. The way you moved: calm, collected, with that almost invisible smirk hidden at the corner of your mouth. The clinical precision with which you studied blood spatter patterns. Even the eerily focused expression you wore when something fascinated you.

It was Brian. All of it. Echoes of him in every mannerism.

Dexter’s gaze tracked you relentlessly. He couldn’t stop himself. Every tilt of your head, every step, every flicker of concentration pulled at him like a phantom limb. His pulse remained steady, but something in his chest tightened in a way he didn’t understand—and didn’t want to.

Could you be his brother’s reincarnation? That was ridiculous. Impossible. Irrational. But was it really?