The Incubus System Chapter 1146. Hurry Up And Wait

The Incubus System Chapter 1146. Hurry Up And Wait

The air outside the police station was thick with heat and exhaust fumes. The dull gray of the building stretched upward. A pair of officers stood near the entrance, chatting idly while occasionally glancing at passing pedestrians.

I walked up the short flight of stairs, my shoes scuffing against the concrete. The automatic doors slid open with a quiet hiss, letting in the chilled, artificial air of the station. The scent of coffee, old paper, and floor cleaner hit my nose instantly.

Inside, the station was a mix of chaos and order. Officers moved from desk to desk, phones rang in the background, and a faint hum of a barely-working AC unit buzzed above. The waiting area had stiff plastic chairs, a vending machine that looked half-broken, and a TV mounted in the corner showing some news segment nobody was watching.

I walked up to the front desk, where a bored-looking officer sat behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass. He was middle-aged, balding, and had the kind of face that suggested he’d rather be anywhere else. A cup of coffee sat next to a stack of paperwork, and the faint sound of a sports podcast played from his earbuds.

He barely glanced up. “Need something?”

I pulled the crumpled letter from my pocket and slid it through the small opening in the glass. “Got this this morning. Here to see Karla Duskblight.“

The officer took the letter, his fingers smudged with ink, and unfolded it with a sigh. His eyes scanned the page, his expression shifting from indifferent to mildly interested.

“Oh. You’re the kid.”

I raised a brow. “That’s what they tell me.”

He grunted, stamping something onto the letter before setting it aside. “Take a seat.”

I sighed, turning toward the ugly plastic chairs.

Of course. Hurry up and wait.

I sat down, arms crossed, tapping my foot against the floor as the sounds of the station hummed around me. A woman at the front desk was arguing about a parking ticket. A cop walked past me, muttering into his radio. Somewhere in the back, someone was coughing aggressively, like they smoked five packs a day.

The place felt cold and sterile, despite the amount of messiness packed into it.

Minutes passed. Then more. Another minute.

Then, finally, the doors swung open.

Tiffany stepped inside, shoulders squared, face unreadable.

Her hair was tied back, her sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on me. She was dressed simply—black jeans, a leather jacket, a fitted white tee. Casual, but there was a tense energy in the way she carried herself.

She walked up without hesitation, stopping just in front of me. Her presence was sharp, focused. I smirked. “Took your time.”

She didn’t smile. “You got here first?”

I leaned back in my chair. “What, you wanted to show up first so you could look cool?”

She rolled her eyes, finally sitting next to me. “I already look cool. First place doesn’t matter.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The weight of why we were here settled in.

I glanced at her, noting the tension in her jaw. “So,” I said, voice lower, “you okay?”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “You mean, am I ready to see the woman who ruined both our lives? Absolutely.”

I smirked. “Sarcasm. That’s how I know you’re really fine.”

She shook her head, but her lips twitched slightly. “You?”

I thought about it. Thought about Mom’s voice, her empty apologies, the way she always managed to twist things to make herself the victim.

“Ask me after,” I muttered.

Tiffany nodded like she understood. Because she did. She finally broke the silence, her voice low. “You know, I don’t get it.”

I glanced at her. “What?”

“Why she requested us.” Her arms were crossed, her jaw tight. “I mean… usually, my dad requests me.”

I frowned. “So, you’re saying—”

She nodded. “Yeah. I was expecting a letter, but I thought it’d be about him.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So you’re gonna meet her, too?”

Tiffany sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Looks like it.”

I kept walking, thoughts turning over in my head. “And the letter didn’t mention your dad at all?”

She shook her head. “Not once.”

I exhaled, the feeling in my gut twisting into something colder. “Okay. That’s double weird.” So I would expect more drama later.

Tiffany arms still crossed. “So. What’s the plan?”

I smirked. “Walk in. Nod. Pretend to listen. Leave.”

Tiffany raised a brow. “You think she’s gonna pull the ‘I’ve changed’ speech again?”

I sighed. “Probably. With a side of ‘I only did what I had to’ and maybe some ‘it was never about the money.’”

Tiffany hummed. “Might even throw in a ‘you have to understand.’”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’d love to understand.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You think she’s actually scared? Of the trial?”

I thought about that.

Mom was always playing a game. Always calculating, always looking for the next move. But this time?

She had run out of moves.

“She’s scared,” I said finally. “But not for the right reasons.”

Tiffany nodded like she had expected that answer. “So. What do we say to her?”

I smirked. “No.”

Tiffany let out a short, sharp laugh. “Good plan.”

Before we could say anything else, the reinforced door buzzed and an officer stepped through.

He scanned a clipboard, then looked at us. “Strongheart and—” his eyes flicked to Tiffany, “—Duskblight?”

Tiffany’s lip curled slightly, but she didn’t correct him.

“That’s us,” I said, standing.

The officer nodded. “Follow me.”

Tiffany and I exchanged a look.

Then, together, we stepped through the doors.

The room they brought us to was as cold and lifeless as I remembered. White walls, steel chairs bolted to the ground, a thick plastic divider with a phone on either side.

The kind of place designed to suck all the warmth out of the air.

We sat down.

A moment passed.

Then another.

The door on the opposite side of the divider opened.

And she walked in.