DarkBright

DarkBright Trilogy Book 1

Abby Kane FBI Thriller

Book 20

Ty Hutchinson

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

A Note From Ty Hutchinson

Also by Ty Hutchinson

1

The woman ran, crashing through the trees.

Arms pumping as branches clawed at her delicate white skin.

Her breath came in sharp, ragged bursts. Twigs snapped beneath her bare feet as the chilly air prickled her lungs.

There was nothing but darkness and pain in her mind. How could that be? She’d left that behind. But she felt it all around her, closing in.

Keep moving. Don’t stop! she told herself repeatedly.

A branch snapped behind her. Was that also a voice she heard?

No—just the wind. It had to be. She was so sure she had a head start.

Or maybe not.

Deputy Denny Becket drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, humming along to the playlist of ’80s music off his phone.

He reached for his coffee, took a sip, and grimaced. It had gone cold. He reminded himself to order one of those heated travel mugs online.

It was a little after midnight, officially the end of his shift, but Becket had decided to drive the remote roads near the base of the Sierra Nevada.

There wasn’t any real reason to. Almost no one traveled them, especially at night, but ignoring them didn’t sit right. They deserved attention.

Mill Road was a one-lane stretch about half a mile off Highway 120, the route leading to Yosemite National Park. Mostly hunters used it to reach the more remote areas of the mountains, but given the time of year, there wouldn’t be any. Hunting was out of season.

Becket yawned, a signal he should turn around and head back. He was scheduled to be on duty at 7:00 a.m., but he didn’t mind losing a little sleep. He loved the job.

The woman ran, stumbling over an exposed root.

Perspiration seeped into the cuts along her arms.

The sting reminded her she was still alive.

Her fingers dug into the cold soil as she clawed her way up a steep grade until the trees opened ahead.

A road.

Becket almost didn’t see it, just a flicker of movement in his headlights.

Then he slammed the brakes, knuckles whitening around the wheel as the Chevy Tahoe screeched to a halt.

Shit!

His heart rebounded off his ribs.

The speakers kept pumping out music—“Karma Chameleon,” by Boy George, felt jarringly out of place. He reached for his phone and disconnected it from the car’s Bluetooth. Silence.

Then he saw her.

A lone figure standing in his headlights. Strands of mist drifting past her.

She was thin and barefoot. Her clothes barely clung to her frame, like they belonged to someone else. Red scratches crisscrossed her arms and legs, fresh, raw, mixed in with streaked dirt.

Becket swallowed hard, reached for the door handle, and climbed out.

She stood still. Rigid and unnatural. Her face unreadable beneath a curtain of dark matted hair. A patch was missing, as if someone had grabbed it and pulled hard.

Becket approached slowly, his hand resting lightly on the butt of his sidearm. He half expected her to bolt as he closed the distance, but she remained frozen, a mannequin.

Her gaze was fixed on the pavement. Was she even aware of his presence?

When he was close enough, he crouched slightly, angling his head to meet her eyes. They were wide, and her pupils swallowed what little color was left.

Jesus, what happened to you?

“Miss?” he said, his voice soft. “Are you okay?”

No blinking. No shifting. Just shallow breaths and her eyes still pinned to the road.

He stepped a little closer. “Miss, can you⁠—”

Her head snapped up and her eyes locked on his, followed by a sharp inhale.

Then she opened her mouth and screamed. “DarkBright!”

2

Deputy Becket pulled into the clinic’s gravel lot, headlights bouncing off the white-painted veranda.

Dr. Coleman and his wife, Vera, stood near the entrance in their nightclothes, the doctor’s robe flapping slightly in the cold air.

Most of Knights Ferry were tucked into bed, and any activity at this hour meant trouble. Becket hadn’t needed to explain much over the phone. The doctor agreed without hesitation.

His mysterious Jane Doe hadn’t stopped screaming since he’d ushered her into the back seat of his Tahoe. That word, over and over.

The Colemans rushed over as he brought the vehicle to a stop. He was sure they could hear her.

“DarkBright! DarkBright!”

The sound ripped through the quiet night as Becket helped the doctor guide her inside. She wasn’t resisting, just moving like she was catatonic. Her eyes were vacant, her voice wild.

They led her into an examination room. With Becket and Vera holding her down, Dr. Coleman administered an injection.

“It’ll calm her down,” he said. “Give me time to look her over. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” Vera added, glancing up at Becket with concern. “Come with me.”

They left the room, leaving the doctor to his work, and settled into the small break area.

The Colemans lived in a house behind the clinic, which was handy for times like this. Otis Coleman had been the town’s doctor for nearly thirty years. He’d married Vera a few years after she started working for him.

Vera returned to the table with two mugs and placed one in front of him. Becket offered a nod of thanks, aware she was watching him closely.

“I almost didn’t drive down Mill Road,” he muttered. “If I hadn’t…”

Vera placed a hand on his. “But you did. That’s what matters. She’s here now, and we can help. Drink.”

Becket took a sip. The warmth spread through his chest, calming him down a bit.

“You always make the best coffee,” he said.

But he knew that wasn’t what Vera wanted to talk about. She oversaw patient records, and she had questions.

After a moment or two, Becket drew a deep breath and let it out. “She came out of nowhere,” he said. “I slammed the brakes just in time.” His eyes met hers. “I nearly ran her over.”

For the next few moments, Becket recounted what had happened.

“No purse or wallet?” Vera asked.

He shook his head, hands wrapped around the mug. “No ID. Nothing. Not even a pocket on those rags. The way you saw her? That’s how I found her. She’s not from around here. We’d recognize her if she was, right?” He took a sip.

Vera frowned, rubbing her arms like a chill had settled in. “No one goes missing in a town this small. You know that.”

Becket nodded. “I tried talking to her in the car, but something spooked her. Bad. She couldn’t stop shaking.”

“Maybe once she’s had some rest, answers will come,” Vera said. She lifted her cup but paused before taking a sip. “What’s this DarkBright she keeps shouting?”

“Beats me,” Becket replied with a shrug. “It’s the only thing she’s said since I found her. It doesn’t sound like someone’s name or a place I’m familiar with.”

Vera and Becket sat quietly, him glancing toward the exam room every now and then. A few moments later, the door opened, and Dr. Coleman called him in.

Inside, the woman was sleeping peacefully. An IV was hooked to her arm. Coleman leaned against the counter, rubbing his jaw, his brow crinkled.

“Physically, she’s not in bad shape,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Becket asked.

“She’s not in danger of dying, but she does have some interesting…well, I’m not sure if they’re injuries or not. Maybe you could chalk it up to being lost in the woods, but I doubt it.”

Becket frowned. “Why?”

“Teeth,” the doctor said, walking over to her. “She’s missing some. Gaps where they used to be.”

“So, she’s missing teeth. Why does that strike you as odd?”

“Because most people get implants or have dentures. She has nothing. That’s not all. Her fingernails—” He lifted her hand for Becket to see. It had been cleaned of dirt. “Most are gone. A few are starting to regrow. Some are scarred over. One looks like it was torn off recently, but the rest? Those were lost a while ago.”

Becket exhaled through his nose. “Jesus, this keeps getting weirder by the minute.”

Coleman pulled the blanket back, revealing her right foot. “Pinkie toe’s gone. But the skin’s healed.”

“Like amputated? Or a birth defect?” Becket leaned in.

“Amputated, for sure.” Coleman let the blanket fall back. “Like I said, really strange…damage. I don’t even know what to call it. Mutilation? Modification?” He shook his head. “Has the sheriff been notified?”

“Not yet,” Becket said. “I came straight here. Why?”

“Because this woman will require more help than this clinic can provide. Beyond ruling out internal injuries with an MRI, she needs psychiatric care. She’s clearly unstable and this is well outside my scope.”

“Poor thing,” Vera said, brushing a few strands of hair from the woman’s face.

Coleman placed a hand on Becket’s shoulder. “She needs to be transferred somewhere that can help her. It’s also imperative we figure out who she is or find her family. Especially if she wakes up with no memory.”

“You think that’s possible?” Becket’s brow furrowed. “Total amnesia?”

“It’s common after trauma. Usually temporary, but real. She might wake up not even knowing her own name.” He folded his arms. “We’ll keep her here for now. But like I said, there’s only so much we can do.”

“Understood.”

3

“I bet I can eat more tacos than you,” I said, glancing up at the tall man walking beside me as we neared the taqueria.

Kyle Kang was my partner and the Assistant Special Agent in Charge. I was the Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco FBI field office. Together, we ran the place.

He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Are you crazy? I’m six two. I could eat you under the table. Not even a challenge worth my consideration.”

“You’re built like a string bean,” I shot back. “Your stomach’s compromised.”

“Says the woman who’s so short she can seek shelter under a mushroom.”

I flapped my arms and clucked. “What’s the matter? Chicken?”

Kang sighed. “You realize this is how people die, right? Choking during stupid food challenges?”

I kept clucking like a maniac as we walked into El Farolito, our favorite taqueria in the Mission. I was starving and pretty sure I could take Kang down.

A short potbellied man greeted us with a grin stretched across his face. Stained white apron, a hairnet, tattoos on his arms.

“Eh, comarada.”

Rafael, the manager, had known us since our first visit.

“Hola, Rafael. I need your help,” I said.

“Of course, Abby. What can I do for you?”

“Kyle thinks he can beat me in a taco-eating contest.”

“No.” Rafael frowned, glancing up at Kang. “Are you loco? Abby is a comelona.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, pal.”

It was after the lunch rush, so the staff had nothing better to do than place bets. Minutes later, twenty carne asada tacos hit the table. Ten for me, ten for Kang.

Rafael climbed onto a chair, hands raised. “On the left, we have Abby ‘the Shorty Who Denies Being over Forty’ Kane!”

“Hey! I’m still young.”

“She will face off against Kyle ‘the Lean, Mean String Bean Machine’ Kang! You each have ten tacos. First to finish is el campeon.”

Kang and I sat, staring each other down, stone faced. This wasn’t about tacos. This was about ego. Bragging rights. An opportunity to belittle the other.

Rafael placed two fingers into his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle, and we dove in.

I shoved half a taco into my mouth, chewing furiously. Kang did the same. We were neck and neck. At taco five, I pulled ahead. At six, Kang inhaled his taco, swallowing after just a few chews. I knew then he wasn’t playing.

I crossed my eyes mid-bite, hoping to make him laugh and choke. No reaction. His stare was locked on me, keeping track of every bite, every swallow.

The staff closed in around us, creating a stadium-like feeling as they shouted ¡Vamos!

We stayed even through taco nine. And then the final taco was in our hands. It was cabeza a cabeza, head to head.

I forced the last bite down, swallowing what felt like a brick. I opened my empty mouth wide. “I win!”

Kang mirrored me, mouth gaping. “No way. I won!”

Rafael whistled. “¡Empate!” A tie.

I pointed at Kang. “He was still chewing!”

“Your tacos were smaller!” he shot back.

“Stop your whining!” I brought my knuckles up to my eyes and fake-cried.

“Okay, first one to barf loses!”

We kept bickering until Rafael held up both our arms in triumph. “I’m serious, amigos. It was a tie.”

Back at the office, I struggled to sit upright. My stomach was in full rebellion, a hump worthy of a camel. Kang didn’t look any better, but we both pretended otherwise. Ego still ruled.

“That was fun,” Kang said. “We should do it again.”

“Totally. Maybe fifteen tacos next time. I’m still a little hungry.” I rubbed my stomach.

“Yeah, same.”

My phone rang. I recognized the number—Assistant Director Greg Munson at Quantico. He oversaw the Criminal Investigative Division. It was after hours on the East Coast, which meant one thing.

This wasn’t good news.

“Agent Kane,” I answered, putting it on speaker so Kang could hear.

“I need you on a case,” Munson said. No hello. No preamble. He’d been that way ever since taking the position years ago.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s not standard. Sheriff’s office in Stanislaus County picked up a battered Jane Doe. They figured she was just another lost hiker, but it’s more than that. She’s got amnesia and keeps repeating the word DarkBright.”

Kang mouthed “what the hell” as he raised an eyebrow. I mirrored it.

“What’s DarkBright mean?” I asked.

“Good question. I trust you’ll find out. Her injuries are consistent with abduction or trafficking. Doesn’t appear to be from the area. Could even be out of state.”

Still didn’t sound like our problem.

“So, you want us to consult over Zoom? Is Sacramento involved?”

“Kane,” he said, voice sharpening, “I want you and Kang—I know he’s listening—to drive there and speak with the sheriff. Consider it a favor. Am I clear?”

“You’re clear. But with all due respect, you really want us on a missing persons case?”

“Like I said, it might be more. I have all the confidence that you two will sort it out.”

The line cut out.

I stared at the screen. “He hung up.” I sat back. “I really need to stop answering my phone.”

“How do we always get roped into crap like this?” Kang muttered, arms flailing. “There are dozens of agents fully capable of handling this so-called favor. I told you, solve too many cases, and suddenly you’re the golden goose. You know what this is, right? Payback for that promotion you turned down.”

“You think? That’s petty.”

“No one does petty like the federal government.”

Three months ago, I turned down a promotion that would’ve required relocating to Quantico. Munson wanted me as deputy assistant director, overseeing violent crime in his division. I had zero interest in joining that circle jerk of a boys’ club.

Besides, I loved San Francisco. My life was here. That decision pissed off all the right people.

Kang leaned back, hands on his belly. He looked like a man in his third trimester. “So…a battered woman with a weird catchphrase. That’s our case?”

“We don’t usually get direct calls from Quantico for weird catchphrases,” I said.

“No, but it still sounds like a monumental waste of time.”

“Or someone knows more than they’re letting on.”

4

A day later, Becket spent the better part of the morning driving the back roads, searching for anything that might help identify his Jane Doe or at least point him in a direction.

She wasn’t local. That much was obvious. And nothing about her suggested she was from any of the nearby towns either.

She was a city person.

But Becket found nothing. No abandoned vehicle. No ditched personal items. Just empty roads. He passed a pickup he recognized, but otherwise, the roads were traffic-free.

Eventually, he made his way back to the spot where he’d first found the woman and parked on the shoulder.

He stepped out of his Tahoe, stretched his arms overhead, and took in the scene.

The morning air was cool and crisp. The sun had burned off the mist from the night before. The world was quiet, just the occasional birdsong and some rustling in the brush.

Becket adjusted his sunglasses. Ponderosa pines dominated the area. From above, the forest looked thick, but down at ground level, the tall, bare trunks made visibility surprisingly good.

He walked to the spot where she’d emerged from the trees. The road here was elevated, with a gradual twenty-five-foot slope on either side. Not steep, but not something you casually wandered up in the dark either.

He climbed down a few feet to the nearest tree, bracing himself against the trunk. The signs were there—disturbed dirt and overturned needles, creating a clear path. It still made no sense to him why she was even in the area.

There were no campgrounds or cabins nearby. It wasn’t prime territory for fishing or hunting. And even if she’d been hiking, the established trails were far from here. All well marked and obvious. This wasn’t a place you ended up in by accident.

And then there was the timing. Midnight.

Had she been lost all day? Wandering in the dark made no sense, unless she was running from something. Or someone.

Becket paused and listened. Just the faint rustle of needles in the wind.

He climbed back up to the road.

Standing on the centerline, right where she had been, he turned slowly in a full circle. Was she crossing the road? Or had she seen his headlights and stepped out deliberately, hoping he’d stop? Dangerous way to get the attention of a moving vehicle.

He didn’t have answers, not yet. But he could swing by the Knights Ferry Recreation Area and do a little due diligence.

Anyone visiting the area usually passed through there for information on picnicking and barbecuing in the area, and where to access the hiking trails. The rec area also organized kayaking and rafting on the Stanislaus River. It was a hub for all visitors to the area.

Becket pulled into the parking lot and made the short walk to the information center, built like a hunting cabin from thick logs.

Inside, he spotted Bill Walters, the manager, standing behind the counter. He’d just placed a mug of coffee down.

“Deputy Becket,” Walters said, flipping a switch. The chandelier overhead, made entirely from elk antlers, flickered to life. “What brings you out here so early?”

“I wish I could say I was here to pull up a chair and enjoy a cup of coffee along with some chitchat,” Becket replied, walking past the giant stuffed grizzly posed on its hind legs, “but it’s business.”

Walters frowned. “I see… How can I help?”

Becket pulled out his phone and brought up a photo of Jane Doe. “Found this woman stumbling out of the woods late at night. No ID. No name. Any chance you’ve seen her around here?”

Walters took the phone and studied the image for a moment before shaking his head. “Doesn’t look familiar.” He snapped a photo of it with his own phone. “I’ll show it to the staff when they get in. Maybe one of them helped her.”

“Appreciate that.” Becket pocketed his phone.

“Where’d you find her?”

“Up on Mill Road, near where it turns into a single lane.”

“What was she doing way up there?”

“Good question. She was in shock when I found her, so I couldn’t get a word out of her. She’s resting at the clinic now.”

“Well…maybe it’ll all sort itself out after some rest.”

“That’s the hope.”

Becket purposely played the situation down. No need to give the town’s rumor mill anything to work with. Better they think she was just another lost hiker or camper. It had happened before, though rarely.

What they didn’t need to hear was that she kept shouting DarkBright while looking half possessed.

In a town like Knights Ferry, it wouldn’t take much for folks to label her as something sinister. And these people? They had wild imaginations.

Becket headed back to the station and parked in the gravel lot out front. What had once been a three-bedroom ranch was now a satellite station for the Stanislaus County Sheriff’s Department. It had opened in response to the seasonal surge of visitors to the Knights Ferry Recreation Area.

At first, it had been bare bones. Just two desks, a radio, and a single deputy on rotation. But over the years, it had grown to service not only Knights Ferry but a handful of nearby towns. Three full-time deputies now worked the area.

Becket stepped inside. Behind her desk sat Deputy Loretta Appleton, a seasoned reserve deputy nearing retirement. These days, she mostly handled dispatch and admin. She was always good for a snack, a listening ear, or a no-nonsense reality check.

“Morning,” Becket said. “Is that a slice of your famous crumb cake I see in front of you?” He removed his hat.

“I made a pan last night. It’s over there on the counter. Help yourself.”

Becket beelined to the counter, plated himself a generous slice, and poured a cup of coffee before sinking into his chair behind the desk.

“I read your Jane Doe report,” Appleton said, taking a bite of cake. “What’s the deal with her?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Spent most of the morning driving back roads for a car or signs of a camp. Also checked in with the rec area. So far nothing helpful has come about. She’s still a mystery. I’m hoping after a night’s rest she’ll be able to tell us something.”

“That poor girl…wandering the woods at night like that. No wonder she’s in shock.”

Just then, a sound came from the office with the closed door.

Becket’s eyes widened. “He’s here?”

“Mm-hmm.” Appleton nodded.

That office belonged to Sheriff Gordy Stacks. He used to swing by occasionally just to check in. Then it became one or two days a week, until finally he made himself an office.

“What’s he doing here again? He was just here yesterday.”

Appleton held up a copy of Becket’s Jane Doe report.

“He’s already seen it?”

The office door opened. Out walked Stacks.

Crisp uniform. Thick white mustache. Silver hair slicked back like he was headed to a photo shoot.

Becket always felt the guy looked at him like a problem waiting to happen, even though Stacks was the one who’d hired him straight out of the academy. Barely a year on the job and Stacks still seemed surprised every time Becket showed up.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Becket said. “Didn’t think you’d make the drive again so soon.”

Becket had been out all morning. And with Deputy Peel out injured, he knew how it looked—like he was taking advantage of the situation to slack off.

“Deputy Becket,” Stacks said, hands on his hips. “How good of you to finally show up. As you know, with Deputy Peel out, we’re short staffed.”

“I apologize for not checking in earlier. I was working an investigation this morning.”

Stacks raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Becket knew he’d already read the report.

“Investigation?” Stacks walked over and sat on the edge of Becket’s desk, his usual power move, ass first. Becket hated it.

“Mind filling me in on this ‘investigation’?”

Becket kept his voice steady as he played along. “I picked up a Jane Doe at the end of my shift last night. I’ve been trying to ID her. She was in shock and unable to communicate.”

“Oh yes, the Jane Doe. Did she answer your questions this morning?”

“I haven’t interviewed her yet. Thought she could use the rest.”

Stacks raised a brow. “But you just said you were out investigating?”

Becket ran through his morning again, explaining how he drove the back roads and checked with the rec area knowing full well Stacks didn’t care. He liked to control everything. If it didn’t come from him, it wasn’t worth doing.

“If you want, I can take you out to where I picked her up,” Becket offered.

“No need. I’ve read your report.” Stacks sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, son. I get it. You want to play detective. But this isn’t some big case. This woman’s a mental case, and⁠—”

“She has a mental health condition,” Becket said, interrupting.

Stacks paused. “What?”

“You said she’s a mental case. The correct term is mental health condition.”

He knew it was a poke. He did it anyway.

Stacks eyed him for a moment. “The sooner we pass her off, the better.”

“We should at least try to figure out who she is, right?”

Stacks’s gaze sharpened. “Drop it, Becket. We don’t have the manpower, and we sure as hell don’t need the headache. End of story.”

“Sheriff,” Appleton called out. “Call just came in. McHenrys are drunk and fighting again.”

“Perfect.” Stacks clapped once. “Go make yourself useful, Becket. Take care of the McHenrys and leave that nutjob in the hospital alone.”

He disappeared into his office.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Appleton said, “You’re gonna get yourself fired one day.”

“Why? I did nothing wrong.”

“Correcting him?” She gave him a look.

“It’s the proper way to address her situation.”

“You and I both know that’s not why you said it. That was a jab because he’s shutting you out.”

“Damn straight. I’ve been here nearly a year, and what do I have to show for it? Breaking up beer brawls between the McHenrys?”

“We serve and protect. We don’t get to cherry-pick the exciting stuff.”

Becket grabbed his hat and headed for the door, stopping at her desk.

“Why isn’t he giving this case any attention? If there’s a reason, I know you know it.”

“Didn’t the sheriff just tell you to stop? The McHenrys are probably breaking bottles over each other’s heads, and you’re in here playing detective on a case you were told not to touch.”

“Part of my job is to be a detective.” He lowered his voice. “Look, you know everything that goes on around here. I’ve got a feeling there’s something Stacks isn’t telling me.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll fix that gate of yours, the one you always complain about.”

“You’re not gonna half-ass it like you did my cabinets?”

“Cross my heart.”

She wrote something down on a scrap of paper and slid it to him. “Mum’s the word.”

Becket read it. Agents Abby Kane and Kyle Kang. “The FBI is involved? How did they find out about this?”

Appleton nodded toward Stacks’s office.

“We know next to nothing, and he’s already called in the feds. It makes no sense.”

“Nothing he does makes any sense. And why do you care, anyway?”

“I don’t. I mean, I’m just trying to understand stuff. So, they’re supposed to meet with the sheriff tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Not here, though. Pam’s Coffee Shop. One p.m. sharp.”

Becket frowned. “Why not here? This is a police matter.”

Appleton cut into her crumb cake. “Wouldn’t be the first time he handled something off the record.”

Becket’s gut twisted.

“You want my advice?” Appleton said. “Don’t be anywhere near there when they show up. He’s meeting them away from the station for a reason. Even seeing you, happy coincidence or not, won’t go over well. You’re already on his shit list. If we weren’t short staffed…”

“I get it.” Becket nodded. “I owe you.”

5

The rear tires of Becket’s Tahoe spun, kicking up gravel as he pulled out of the parking lot. He was pissed. Fed up with Stacks micromanaging like he was Mr. Know-It-All.

But Becket knew Appleton was right about not getting on Stacks’s bad side.

Most offices had been fully staffed when he was looking to get hired. Stacks had been the only one to give him a chance, even if Becket still wasn’t sure the man liked him. But he’d survived the process. He wore the badge of deputy sheriff. Mission accomplished.

Appleton was also right about poking the bear. He was still within his twelve-month probation. One wrong move and he was gone.

He told himself to let it go. Smile and play the part. That was what was expected from a rookie. Getting fired wasn’t in the plan. But why bring the feds into this mess?

The McHenrys were an older couple who loved their beer—and the drama that came with it. Most days they were harmless. Every now and then, things tipped toward dangerous.

Mr. McHenry was shirtless in the front yard, holding a beer can, when Becket pulled up. His loose jeans sagged off his bony hips. He had a white beard and the look of a man who’d just lost a bet with sobriety.

“Mr. McHenry, what’s going on?”

“She’s being unreasonable,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “One minute we’re having a good time, next minute she’s yelling about something I did ten years ago. Hell, I can’t remember what I did yesterday.”

The front door flew open, and Mrs. McHenry stormed out, boozed up and furious.

“He’s got some whore on the side he’s spending our money on! I know it!”

Becket gave Mr. McHenry a raised brow.

“It’s not true,” the man mumbled. “She takes all my money. I don’t even know what she’s talking about.”

Becket gently walked Mrs. McHenry away from the house.

“He’s got someone, I know it,” she insisted.

“You’re right, he does. And that someone is you.”

She blinked at him.

“Your husband’s about as loyal as a man like him can be,” Becket said. “If he were cheating, which I don’t think he is, this town would know. Hell, I’d know.”

“He ignores me,” she whispered. “Doesn’t pay attention. Some days it’s like I don’t exist.”

“I’m sure he does love you,” Becket said. “But men, we forget to show what we’re thinking. Doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there.”

“Then why can’t he show it?”

“Excellent question. He should. Let me go talk to him.”

Becket walked with Mr. McHenry, repeating the gist of the conversation. Five minutes later, the couple was hugging in the front yard like they were newlyweds.

“See? That’s love,” Becket said. “Now maybe lay off the brewskis for a bit, okay, you lovebirds?”

Even though Becket didn’t think he should be dealing with stuff like this, he did like seeing a happy ending.

Back in his Tahoe, Becket’s thoughts returned to the Jane Doe. Even the McHenrys couldn’t bury her.

Screw it.

He drove straight to the clinic, knowing full well he was ignoring orders from Stacks.

He walked in and tucked his hat under his arm. The waiting room had a few patients. Vera looked up from the front desk and smiled.

“Dr. Coleman’s with a patient,” she said, already guessing why he was there.

“Do you have a moment? Somewhere private?”

She nodded and guided him away from the lobby.

“How’s my Jane Doe doing?”

“She’s been sleeping like a baby. Hasn’t woken up once since she arrived.”

“Is that normal?”

“Considering what she’s probably been through? It’s not unusual. Her vitals are steady. She’s fine otherwise.”

“Can I see her?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Vera led him to the room, then returned to the front desk.

Becket stood near the door, watching the woman. Her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. She looked peaceful, nothing like the frantic mess from last night. She could easily be someone’s wife, or girlfriend, or even their mother. He stepped closer and took a seat by her bed.

Her hand had slipped from beneath the blanket.

He froze.

The nails, or what was left of them, were in plain view. Looking at them now, it was clear they hadn’t broken while she was climbing out of the woods. They were missing. Cleanly. Maybe even deliberately.

Becket’s stomach turned as he thought about the obvious.

Torture? She could easily have been someone’s prisoner. It looked like she could have been running from someone. Or maybe she’d finally escaped an abusive relationship.

He’d seen that kind of damage before, just not here in Knights Ferry.

He leaned in, staring at the ridged skin on her fingertips.

An abduction. A woman running. It was a wild theory, but the kind people might latch onto. Especially if they saw her hands. Stacks would mock the idea until the day Becket cleaned out his desk.

He sighed, rubbed his face, and glanced at his watch. He should head back. The last thing he needed was Stacks finding out he’d come to the clinic again. Still, he didn’t move. He just watched her.

Then her eyelids fluttered, and his breath hitched.

Slowly, her head turned to him, as if she sensed his presence. She opened her eyes, looking straight at him. Her lips parted and she whispered.

“DarkBright.”

Then louder.

“DARKBRIGHT!”

6

The late-morning sun glared off the windshield, forcing Kang to flip the visor down as he drove. Rows of farmland whipped past on either side of the highway, the occasional farmhouse or tractor blurring by. It was one of those long stretches of road where you could see ten miles ahead and not much else.

I figured the drive to Knights Ferry would take two to two and a half hours, depending on traffic and bathroom breaks. It’s never dull when the two of us are in the car—always plenty to talk about.

“I still think they shipped Ryan out too early,” Kang said, eyes on the highway, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Ryan, my eldest, is a field officer for the CIA. He’d been injured during an assignment in Southeast Asia and had spent the past few months recuperating at home in San Francisco.

For me, it was heaven having him back. Before that, I went almost two years without seeing him in person. Video calls, sure, but those don’t come close to a real hug.

Now he was somewhere in central Asia, that’s all he could tell me.

“His mobility wasn’t even at a hundred percent,” Kang added. “From what I understood, even his therapist said he could’ve used more time.”

“They rushed him,” I said, turning to rest my head against the window, watching the scenery pass. “They’ve got other officers. Letting him heal properly wouldn’t have ended the world.”

“At least we had him home for six months. I know Po Po loved it.”

I sat up. “Loved it? She thought she was running a chow hall. Three square meals a day. Literally enough food to feed a small army.”

Po Po, my mother-in-law, adored cooking for the kids. With Ryan gone and Lucy off at university, there hadn’t been much reason for her to be in the kitchen. I ate out a lot because of work. But with Ryan home, she went into overdrive. Where the woman found the energy was beyond me.

“Yeah, she did,” Kang said. “Those meals were amazing. I think I ate seventy percent of them. Honestly, I should’ve just moved into Lucy’s room temporarily.”

Kang switched lanes to let a speeding pickup pass, then settled back into cruise control. The road hummed beneath the tires.

“Speaking of the famous influencer,” Kang said with a grin, “how’s she doing?”

Lucy was wrapping up her first year at USC. She came home when she could, so I hadn’t resorted to adopting a cat just yet. She was also TikTok famous.

“She’s doing great. School’s going well, and she landed some major brand deals. I’m happy for her, but…” I hesitated. “It might mean she won’t come home this summer.”

“Why?” Kang glanced over.

“Being in LA makes it easier for her to get those deals. She has access to a studio and an office now where she shoots her TikToks.”

“I thought she shot them in her bedroom.”

“She does. But some of her stuff is full-on production now—lighting, choreography, the works. She’s doing so well, she told me she wants to pay her own tuition next year.”

“Seriously?”

“Just tuition. Not housing or food. But still, tuition alone is over seventy grand.”

“That’s a big chunk of change.”

“I know. And it’d be a blessing for my bank account, but it feels weird.”

“Why?” Kang asked. “I think it’s incredibly mature. She recognizes her success and the cost of attending a top-tier school. Let her do it. If it helps, stash that money you saved into your retirement account.”

I stretched my legs and shifted in my seat. Kang made perfect sense, as always. But still, something didn’t sit right.

“I know what’s really bothering you,” he said.

“Okay, mind reader. Go ahead.”

“You feel like it’s your duty to take care of your kids. And while it is, Lucy’s an adult now.”

He wasn’t wrong. But the real reason?

If I was honest with myself, it was the gut-punch realization that neither of my kids really needed me anymore. I wasn’t their first call when something went wrong. I wasn’t their problem solver. Or their safety net.

They didn’t need me. Not like before. Just having those thoughts brought me down a bit.

“Hey,” Kang said gently. “Don’t go all doom and gloom on me. Just because you’re not wiping their faces or buttoning up their jackets doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

He always knew exactly what to say.

We arrived in Knights Ferry right on time. The impression was immediate: This was the kind of town where the sidewalks rolled up after dark and people tucked themselves in for the night.

Main Street was quaint. I saw boutique shops, a pizza joint, an insurance office, a combo gas-and-repair station. At the far end of town sat Pam’s Coffee Shop.

“You think he wanted to meet at a coffee shop because that’s what small-town sheriffs do on TV?” I asked as Kang and I headed for the door.

“It’s possible. Or maybe the food’s just really good.”

We spotted him immediately. He was the only person wearing a uniform.

Sheriff Stacks sat in a booth at the back, busy devouring a mountain of breakfast: an oversize omelet, thick-cut bacon, fried potatoes, and a stack of syrup-soaked flapjacks.

He barely looked up as we approached.

“Agents, have a seat,” he said, gesturing across the table. “I highly recommend the all-day breakfast. It’s filling.”

He continued to eat, barely pausing between bites.

We passed on the food. Kang ordered a black coffee.

“Agents, I appreciate you making the trip. I know San Francisco keeps you busy, so let’s skip the small talk and get right into it.”

As he spoke, he reached for a half-crushed pack of cigarettes sitting on the table and slid them back into his jacket pocket.

Over the next twenty minutes, Stacks briefed us, speaking around mouthfuls, on their Jane Doe. She wasn’t local, had no ID, and was in rough shape when found.

Outside of screaming “DarkBright,” he said she hadn’t said much of anything.

I gave Kang a look.

“Believe me, we tried questioning her,” he said, shoveling another forkful into his mouth. “But we couldn’t get past the yelling. Plus, she sleeps like the dead—hasn’t cracked an eye since she was picked up.”

Maybe it was the way he talked with his mouth full or his apparent inability to put down a fork during a briefing, but I was already annoyed.

“Sheriff Stacks,” I said, keeping my voice measured, “your deputy picked up an individual who, as far as I can tell, hasn’t committed any federal crimes. I’m failing to see what, exactly, you expect the FBI to do here.”

Stacks paused, fork in midair.

“We’ve done all we can,” he said. “She’s beyond crazy. She needs help we can’t provide.”

“And you’re hoping the bureau will… What? Intervene and transfer her to a psych facility?”

He stopped chewing. “Well…you’re empowered to do that.”

Kang must’ve sensed my fuse burning because he jumped in just in time.

“Would you be okay with us speaking to your Jane Doe directly, Sheriff?”

“That would be helpful,” he said, finally wiping his mouth. He reached into a worn leather satchel and pulled out a manila folder. “What we’ve got so far. Basic notes. Contact info for the clinic’s staff is in there too.”

Stacks leaned back.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, that this is a waste of your time. And I won’t argue. But she’s not from here, and she just keeps repeating that one damn word—DarkBright. Over and over. We need your help. She could’ve crossed state lines, which technically makes it your jurisdiction.” He sighed. “I know it’s a crappy move. But I’m out of options.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How exactly did you convince the assistant director to send us? Crossing state lines doesn’t usually trigger that kind of escalation.”

Stacks hesitated. “We’re fraternity brothers. Ohio State University. I cashed in the only favor I had. That’s how desperate I am.”

His phone rang. He looked at the screen. “Any other questions? I need to take this call.”

“We’re good,” I said.

He stepped outside, leaving Kang and me alone.

“Can you believe this?” I said. “This isn’t our case. It’s a local problem.”

Kang nodded. “That frat bond must be tight to get Munson involved. Maybe they just want the transfer to happen quietly. A quick fix.”

“But why us? Sacramento’s office is also nearby.”

Kang shrugged and opened the folder. “Let’s see what’s so urgent.”

He scanned the file. “White female, estimated late twenties to mid-thirties. No tattoos or abnormal piercings.”

He paused. “This is interesting…”

“What is?”

“Injuries. Almost all fingernails missing. Extensive bruising on legs. Missing pinkie toe…”

My brow rose. “Wait, the missing toe… Did she lose it in the woods?”

“Doesn’t say. Also a few missing teeth.”

“Those so-called injuries are starting to make her sound like a drug addict.”

“There’s no mention of drugs in her system. I’m assuming Dr. Coleman was thorough with his analysis.” Kang looked up. “Would a small clinic even have that capability?”

“Where exactly was she found?”

Kang flipped pages. “Standing in the middle of the road, just after exiting the woods. A little after midnight.”

“Well, the bruises could’ve come from stumbling around in the dark,” I said. “But the other stuff…” I trailed off. “A small part of me doesn’t want to go there, but mutilation seems to be a better descriptor than injury. What if she was tortured?”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. Missing nails, missing teeth… It’s not definitive, but it raises some flags.”

“And Stacks conveniently left all that out of the briefing,” I said, taking the folder from him. “It’s like he’s trying to downplay everything.”

“Could also be self-harm,” Kang offered. “Mental health issues are often linked to drug abuse.”

I tapped the paper. “She’s malnourished too. This doesn’t sound like someone who got lost while hiking.”

Kang leaned back. “No, it’s not adding up. Maybe that’s why Stacks is pushing so hard to get rid of her, before someone starts asking questions.”

I snapped the folder shut.

“We need to see her for ourselves. I want to hear her say DarkBright in person.”

7

The clinic looked like it had once been an old cottage farmhouse, converted on a budget. It still had a wraparound veranda, a wooden swing bench, and oodles of small-town charm. The place could’ve used a fresh coat of paint and probably a roof that didn’t have patches of weeds growing on it. Wind chimes hung from the eaves, their soft melody dancing in the breeze.

It felt less like a medical facility and more like we were visiting a grandmother who makes fresh-squeezed lemonade.

“Well, this is cute,” I said as I climbed the porch steps. The screen door squeaked when I pulled it open.

Inside, we were greeted by a woman with silver-streaked hair behind the reception desk. Tortoiseshell reading glasses dangled from a gold chain around her neck. She wore a kind smile and reminded me of someone who always had something sweet baking in the oven.

“Hello,” she said. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m not,” I said, smiling. “I’m Agent Kane, and this is my partner, Agent Kang.”

She gave our IDs a quick look. “I’m Vera Coleman. Dr. Coleman’s better half. He’s out on a house call, but maybe I can help.”

“House calls are still a real thing?” Kang asked.

“In this town, they are,” she said warmly. She came around the desk. She was petite, like me, and dressed in black slacks and a vibrant floral blouse. “We’ve got a few folks who live outside of town and don’t always have a way to get here. When it’s quiet, like today, he tries to get out into the community.” She clasped her hands. “I’m guessing you’re here about the young woman we admitted a couple of nights ago?”

“If you mean the Jane Doe, then yes,” I said.

Vera led us down a narrow hallway with creaking floorboards and scenic landscape paintings lining the walls. I noticed her signature on one.

“Dr. Coleman has been keeping her sedated. It’s the only way to keep her calm,” she said. “We’re giving her nourishment intravenously, since she’s been sleeping since she got here.”

“Because of the sedation?” I asked.

“That, and she’s probably still wiped out from her ordeal. Dr. Coleman wants her transferred to a facility that can actually help her, but the red tape is endless. She needs psychiatric care. We’re not equipped for that here.”

She stopped in front of a closed door. “Last I checked, she was still asleep, so no promises you’ll get anything useful. I’ll be at the front if you need me.”

Kang and I stepped inside.

There she was: late twenties, early thirties, white, just as described. Lying in bed, breathing softly. She could’ve passed for a young soccer mom.

I lifted the corner of the blanket and looked at her right foot. One toe was missing. It didn’t look torn off. It looked surgically removed. Kang leaned in for a closer look, then nodded. I let the blanket fall back into place and checked her hands.

“Don’t fingernails grow back when you lose them?” I asked.

“Usually, yeah,” Kang said. “But these look scarred over. A few are trying to grow back, but not well. I’d guess they were removed a while ago. My guess this isn’t an injury from being lost in the woods.”

We examined the bruising along her legs, pale yellow and brown. Nearly healed.

“These are about a week old,” I said. “None of it looks fresh. Whatever happened to her started before the woods.”

“Definitely. I just wonder if there’s any connection,” Kang said.

“Between the injuries and her ending up out there?”

He nodded.

“Does it matter?” I asked. “I mean, are we trying to figure out what happened to her or how she ended up lost?”

“Good question. Maybe start with the lost part. She could’ve wandered from a campsite, crashed her car…”

“Except there’s nothing in the report about abandoned cars. No campsites nearby either.” I exhaled. “How does a woman with no transportation end up in the middle of nowhere with old injuries?”

“Another good question,” Kang said. “Did someone drop her off? Did she escape from someone? Or maybe she wandered off by mistake, and her family’s looking for her somewhere completely different, and they would be able to explain the injuries.”

“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but I’m not getting self-harm vibes.”

“I’d agree, tentatively. But if she’s got serious mental health issues, self-harm’s possible and can explain being in the woods and not remembering how she got there.”

I turned to Kang. “What makes you think she can’t remember?”

“Because she hasn’t said anything else.”

“She needs treatment. That much is clear. But so far, we’ve got no proof a federal crime has been committed. Everything we’re seeing could’ve happened in a dozen different ways. Right now, it’s all speculation.”

“You buy that?”

“No. But proving a hunch takes work.” My gaze fell back on the woman.

“I’ve never seen you back off a hunch,” Kang said. “What’s stopping you now? We’re here.”

“Nothing,” I admitted. “I think I’m still annoyed about how we ended up here. Feels like we’re cleaning up someone else’s mess.”

I stepped closer to the bed. Something was stuck in her hair. A sliver of a twig. I reached for it, gently working it loose.

That’s when I saw her eyes.

Open.

Staring straight at me.

My breath caught, and I jolted back a step.

She was fully awake, eyes darting between Kang and me. Had she been listening to us the whole time?

I took a moment to gather myself before clearing my throat. “Hello. I’m Agent Kane. This is my partner, Agent Kang. We’re with the FBI…”

I trailed off. She was looking at me, but it felt like she was looking past me.

Her lips parted and a breath slipped out. Did she say something? I leaned in. It was just a whisper. Barely audible. I turned my head, brought my ear closer to her mouth⁠—

“DARKBRIGHT!”

8

Vera came running into the room as the woman screamed DarkBright over and over at the top of her lungs.

“She needs to rest,” she said, quickly preparing an injection and pressing the needle into the IV port.

Within seconds, the woman’s body relaxed. Her breathing slowed, and she drifted back into sleep.

“It’s been like this ever since she arrived,” Vera said, as she walked us to the clinic entrance. “If you still have questions about her condition, I’d suggest speaking with Dr. Coleman directly. I can pass along your contact info, if you’d like.”

Kang handed her his card before we stepped outside.

“What do you think DarkBright means?” I asked as we moved off the porch.

“That’s the million-dollar question,” a voice said behind us.

Kang and I turned to see a young deputy sitting casually on the wooden swing, arms crossed over his chest.

“Deputy Becket,” he said, standing to approach. “I’m the one who found Jane Doe. Almost missed her that night, but I decided to check a few of the back roads at the end of my shift.”

“Did Sheriff Stacks send you to help convince us to take her off your hands?” I asked.

He chuckled. “The last thing he wants is me talking to you two.”

“And why is that?” I asked.

“Sheriff handles every investigation himself. He told me to stop poking around.”

“Is that so?”

“He doesn’t think the woman’s worth the trouble, wrote her off as a nutjob. He said the feds, meaning you, were gonna deal with it.”

“So why are you telling us all this?”

Becket looked at me earnestly. “I’ll be honest. I’m green and still on probation, in fact. But you don’t have to be a seasoned investigator to know something doesn’t add up.”

I glanced at Kang, then back to Becket. “What do you know?”

“I grew up in the mountains. I’ve hunted and fished these woods my whole life. Sure, it’s easy to get turned around in there, but not lost. You walk in just about any direction, and eventually you hit a road. A highway. Something.”

He paused, then added, “It’s like being a kid in a grocery store. You lose sight of your mom, but you’re not lost. Not really. You find the aisle she’s in sooner or later.”

“You find it strange?” I asked.

“The shape she was in when I found her? The injuries? It didn’t look like she was just wandering. She looked like she’d been gone awhile. It’s hard to say, but it didn’t feel recent.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” I said. “Considering you just said it’s impossible to get lost in the woods around here. But from what we’ve seen so far, there’s no federal crime to investigate. This case is closed, as far as we’re concerned.”

“She could be from out of state. That means crossing state lines. And those injuries? I know you noticed them. They don’t add up.”

“Have you cross-checked your Jane Doe with all missing persons reports filed in the last month? In the county?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, but I can. But honestly, what bugs me the most are her injuries.”

“What about them?” I cut in, my voice sharper than intended.

“You don’t get wounds like that just from stumbling through the woods. Even at night. On paper, it might look like self-harm, but something about it feels off. Those injuries—they could’ve been inflicted by someone else, somewhere else. It’s plausible.”

“You think she was being tortured?”

“I think she got away from someone. And she’s too shaken to talk about it yet.”

“Have you shared that theory with your superior?”

He shook his head. “No. I figured I’d have a better chance with you.”

I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “No offense, Deputy, but the FBI doesn’t spend its time doing welfare checks. Good luck with your investigation.”

Becket called out as we walked off. “If you want, I can take you to the spot where I found her. It’ll take ten minutes.”

We followed Becket’s Tahoe deep into the woods, where the road narrowed into a single-lane strip of cracked asphalt. Trees crowded on both sides, their branches arching overhead like skeletal fingers. Vegetation was slowly reclaiming it. We parked behind him on the shoulder.

“All wildland out here,” Becket said, walking over. “If there are people around, they’re usually hunters, but this isn’t a great spot for that. You need to head deeper into the hills.” He pointed farther up the slope.

“Where exactly did you find her?” I asked.

“Right this way. I don’t usually patrol this road. Just had a feeling to swing by that night.” He stopped and pointed at the roadside.

Kang walked to the edge and looked down the slope. “Was it raining that night? Or had it recently rained?”

“No. Why?”

“Would’ve been hard to climb this if it were slick. Pine needles don’t give much traction when they’re wet.”

Becket and I joined him at the edge.

“You can still see where she came up.” Becket pointed to a path of disturbed needles and overturned dirt. “It wasn’t slow or careful. She was moving fast.”

“The report said no vehicles were found nearby. You made that determination?” I asked.

“Yeah. I drove all over these back roads this morning. No car, no signs of a camp, no belongings.”

“So how can you be sure she’s not local?” Kang asked. “Couldn’t she be staying with someone nearby?”

“This town’s tiny. If she were a guest, someone would’ve recognized her.”

“How long can someone with zero survival skills last out here?” I asked.

Becket exhaled. “Down here? Maybe a couple of days. But if they keep climbing, heading into the higher elevations? That’s different. Cold nights, no food, no shelter. Pneumonia’s a real risk. Plenty of creeks, though, so water’s not an issue. We’ve got black bears, but they usually don’t venture into this area.”

“You spend much time in these woods?” I asked.

“A little. Mostly I hunt higher up in the mountains. Not many people come out this way.”

“Why’s that?”

“No big game around here. Most hunters are after deer, but…” He hesitated.

“But what?” I pressed.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Not sure if this makes sense talking about, but I swear, sometimes I hear things that don’t make sense when I’m out here. Low voices I can’t make out. Footsteps when I know I’m alone. Could be echoes. Could be animals. But could be the quiet playing tricks.”

I studied him for a moment, then asked, “Be honest. Totally unbiased. Could someone lost out here for a few days end up with those injuries?”

“At night it’s pitch black. No flashlight, it’d be easy to trip and get scraped up.”

I crossed my arms. “But the fingernails? The report said she was missing them, but when we saw them, they weren’t fresh. They looked like they’d been gone for a while. Some were trying to grow back. That’s not something that happens in a few days. That’s older, even deliberate. Same with the teeth: Her gums were healed.”

Becket shifted uncomfortably, his weight moving from one foot to the other.

“That bothers you, doesn’t it?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. It does.”

“That’s why you don’t think she was lost,” I said quietly. “You think she escaped. And she was looking for help.”

Kang glanced at me, then back at Becket. “Did she say anything to you? Before she started screaming?”

“Nothing,” Becket said. “Just stood there in the headlights like a ghost. Then she screamed that word.”

Kang nodded slowly. “DarkBright.”

9

We stopped at Pam’s Coffee Shop for a quick bite before heading back to the city. I ordered the deluxe club sandwich with a side of curly fries; Kang went with the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. We split a plate of stuffed jalapeños.

“Hey, this meatloaf is pretty good. Wanna try a bite before I demolish it all?” Kang asked as he cut into the slab with his fork.

“Nah, I’m good. This sandwich is hitting all the right vibes.”

I pulled out my tin of tieguanyin loose-leaf tea. “Jane Doe, not from the area, found wandering the woods,” I said. “Injuries that don’t match someone who just got lost.” I shook my head as I dropped a pinch into a mug of hot water.

Kang nodded as he swallowed another bite. “Mentally unstable, no ID, can’t answer basic questions and just keeps repeating ‘DarkBright.’ Classic trauma response.” He leaned back in his chair. “But getting lost in the woods doesn’t usually break someone like that.”

“No. She was damaged beforehand,” I said, watching my tea steep. “Whatever happened to her, it didn’t start out there.”

“Which brings us back to the question,” Kang said. “What are we actually investigating? A missing person? Or someone who escaped something worse?”

“The injuries make it look like abduction,” I said. “And if she was trafficked and crossed state lines, we’re looking at federal.”

“But until we know what DarkBright means…” Kang shrugged. “We’ve got two puzzles, and no picture on the box for reference.”

“I agree. We need something.”

“I can see it on your face, Abby. You’re intrigued, but this could just be a woman with a history of mental illness.”

“It’s the fingernails,” I said. “We’ve seen that before. That’s not survival. That’s control. It’s torture.” I took a sip of tea. “And if she escaped from someone, and we walk away? What happens when someone else goes missing? Or worse, what if whoever she escaped from comes back for her?”

Kang was quiet for a moment. “Okay. Maybe we dig. Just a little.”

“Due diligence, right?”

“It’s funny how ‘due diligence’ is always the reason we get sucked into these random investigations.”

“But we’re never wrong about it. You know I’m right.”

Kang tapped his fingers on his coffee cup. I sighed.

“Deputy Becket isn’t experienced enough to handle this,” Kang said. “We can’t just advise and walk away. And from what he’s told us, he’s not even supposed to be investigating.”

“I know. He’s green and in over his head. We’d have to take over the investigation fully.”

It wasn’t that I was against it; I just wanted to make sure it was worth it. If this was simply an unstable woman with a history of running off, there was no reason for the FBI to be involved.

“Based on our conversation with the sheriff,” Kang said, “he wants to wash his hands of her. The easiest way is to dump it in our laps. Taking over is exactly what he wants. It’s like he baited us.”

“I know. And it pisses me off that we walked right into it. But if this is something, if this is an abduction and that woman was tortured, no one in that office is equipped to handle it.”

“So, we’re in, then?”

“We’re in.”

10

We never did get around to questioning the doctor, so after lunch, we drove back to the clinic, hoping he’d returned from his house calls. When we pulled up, the screen door was hanging crookedly from its hinge.

“That doesn’t look good,” Kang said, throwing the car into park.

With our guns drawn, we raced up the porch steps and into the clinic. “Dr. Coleman! Vera!” I called out.

No answer. No one in sight.

I hurried down the hall to the room where Jane Doe had been kept. The bed was empty. The IV bag and stand had fallen to the floor. The bedside table was overturned.

I didn’t like what I saw.

The room was trashed, but not violently. No blood. No broken glass. Just disarray. Like someone had left in a hurry. Was that what had happened? Had Jane Doe taken off running again?

We swept the rest of the clinic. No one was around. Behind it was a larger house we assumed the Colemans lived in. We knocked and waited, but no one answered.

I didn’t want to say it aloud, but the quiet wasn’t just quiet. It felt off. Like someone had hit mute on the world. We returned to the front porch of the clinic, both of us on high alert.

“I want to believe Jane Doe was willingly transferred and the Colemans went for an afternoon stroll,” I said, “but that’s wishful thinking.”

“Yeah,” Kang said, eyes scanning the tree line. “Something went down here.”

Movement at the edge of the woods caught my eye.

Vera and Dr. Coleman stumbled into the clearing. He was shirtless and limping.

“Help!” Vera called, waving frantically as Dr. Coleman fell to the ground.

We sprinted toward them.

“What happened?” She was disheveled, hair wild, streaks of dirt on her hands and muddy shoes.

“He’s hurt bad,” she said, catching her breath.

Dr. Coleman lay on the ground, winded and weak. His shirt was tied around his thigh, soaked through with blood.

“I tripped,” he said. “A sharp branch cut me open. It needs to be stitched up to stop the bleeding, that’s all.”

“Looks bad,” Kang said. “You need proper medical attention now.”

“The woman,” Vera said. “She’s gone. She just took off from her room for no reason. We chased after her, but he fell.”

“She ran that way.” Dr. Coleman pointed. “You might still catch up to her.”

It was a no-brainer to split up. I was sure I could track her down while Kang stayed to assist the Colemans.

I ran fast but carefully, dodging low branches, skirting tall pines. Visibility was decent. I searched for broken twigs, torn fabric, anything that said she had passed through.

I kept scanning the trees ahead, expecting to see a flash of movement or hear a twig snap, or even someone calling for help. Nothing. Just my own breathing and the crunch of pine needles underfoot. She was close. I could feel it.

Another few minutes. Then I spotted her.

Jane Doe sat curled at the base of a pine tree, arms wrapped tight around her knees, trembling like she was freezing. Her thin hospital gown clung to her, wrinkled and dirty. She was barefoot, her skin blotched and scraped. A strip of medical tape still dangled from the back of her hand where the IV needle had been inserted.

She didn’t move. She didn’t even seem to notice me. But something about the way she was positioned, it set my nerves on edge.

I slowed my approach. My hand dropped to the butt of my weapon. Not drawing it, just resting there.

I scanned the tree line ahead of her, and my internal alarm pitched higher. Something wasn’t right.

She was just sitting there, rocking, as if she were waiting for someone. Why take off running only to stop in the middle of nowhere? It made no sense. Even the most terrified people—no matter how tired, how delusional they may be—keep running.

I took two steps forward, constantly checking for movement around us. My gut kept screaming. I drew my weapon, held it close to my thigh.

“Hey,” I said gently. “It’s okay. I’m Agent Kane. I’m here to help.”

She flinched at the sound of my voice, still drawing heavy breaths from her sprint. Her hair was a tangled curtain over one side of her face. Her eyes, what little I could see of them, darted from me to the forest behind me, then back again. Wild and alert.

What is she so afraid of?

I took a few more steps, slower this time. “You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

No answer.

My boots crunched against pine needles as I inched forward. She didn’t take off, even though I half expected her to. Instead, she pulled her knees tighter into her chest, and her mouth started to move. Not words, just the shape of them.

Then I heard it. Just a whisper. “DarkBright.”

“Yes. DarkBright. I know.”

She shook her head. Slowly, she lifted a trembling hand and pointed past me.

I frowned. “What is it?”

Something in her eyes changed. There was panic but something else too. Recognition.

I started to turn, scanning the woods over my shoulder.

Then—crack!

11

Kang, with Vera’s help, got Dr. Coleman back to the clinic and into an examination room. Together, they cleaned and stitched the gash, but the wound was deep, too deep for simple sutures.

Kang watched as Vera’s hands trembled slightly while she loaded the skin stapler. She paused to steady herself.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just been a while.”

She pressed the device to his thigh and pulled the trigger. The sharp clack echoed off the walls. Kang stepped back, giving her room to work, quietly taking it all in. The room smelled of antiseptic.

Vera pulled the trigger again, causing Dr. Coleman to wince. “Sorry, hon,” she whispered, brushing a hand through his damp hair.

Right before Kang’s eyes, she had gone from receptionist to field medic without hesitation. There was no panic in her voice, no wasted movement. Just a woman who knew exactly how to care for her husband. And wasn’t afraid to take the lead.

Kang noticed how her knuckles whitened on the skin stapler, how her breathing stayed even each time she stapled.

One by one she stapled the wound closed. Then she administered a shot of antibiotics and covered it with a clean bandage. By then, Dr. Coleman had slipped into a heavy sleep, his skin pale from blood loss and exhaustion.

“Does he need to be transferred to a hospital?” Kang asked.

“I’ll monitor him overnight and decide in the morning. He should be okay with rest.” She tried to smile. “Might need a handful of painkillers when he wakes up, though.”

Kang offered a hand on her shoulder. “And you? How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. A little worried. He’s older than he looks, and this…he doesn’t need this kind of stress. He’s been trying to retire for three years, but no one wants to relocate to the middle of nowhere.”

“I get it,” Kang said. “It’s a tough sell.”

Now that things had calmed, he stepped into the hallway and called Abby. No answer.

Vera was watching him from inside the exam room. “Cell service is spotty in the woods. Some places, it’s completely dead.”

“Makes sense,” Kang muttered, returning to the room. He tried not to let the knot in his stomach show.

“She’ll be fine,” Vera said gently, almost reading his mind. “She just needs to retrace her steps. She’ll make her way back here.”

Kang nodded, but the reassurance didn’t sit right. Even though Abby was more than capable, that nagging feeling he had didn’t ease. It only sharpened.

He tried to push the feeling down, but it wouldn’t go away. “Vera, I’m heading out to find her.”

Vera looked concerned. “The sun’s nearly down. Maybe call Sheriff Stacks, or at least Deputy Becket. An extra set of eyes wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kang said. “I’d rather get moving than wait.”

“Okay then, start where you saw us pop out of the woods. Ten minutes in, you’ll find a pine tree leaning like the Tower of Pisa. It’s the only one. That’s where we last saw the woman. She ran west from there.”

“Got it.” Kang opened his phone, dropped a pin for the clinic’s location, and pulled up the compass app. “Technology’s good for something.”

He stopped by his vehicle, swapped his suit jacket for a windbreaker, grabbed a flashlight, and headed out. As he entered the forest, a realization hit: Abby didn’t have these directions. She’d gone in cold. No compass, no landmarks, just the vague jab of a bleeding man’s finger.

That knot in his stomach tightened.

Above, the canopy swallowed the light quickly. It was much darker under the pines than he expected. Like night had fallen early. He picked up the pace and phoned Abby again.

No answer.

He reached the leaning pine tree just as Vera described. With the beam from his flashlight, he spotted blood darkening the pine needles. Confirmation he was on the right track.

He turned west, following Vera’s instructions. The deeper he went, the more the trees closed in, low branches scratching his sleeves every so often. The forest grew quiet and still.

Then came the cold.

A sudden drop in temperature raised goose bumps on his arms. He paused, suddenly alert.

“Abby!” he called out.

His voice cut through the quiet, but there was no response. He tried again, louder this time. “Abby!”

Still nothing.

He stood there for a few seconds longer, his flashlight beam sweeping through the dark, willing her voice to answer. He tried phoning her again. Nothing but dead air this time—the call dropped before it could connect.

He stood there for a few seconds longer, the cold settling deeper into his bones. Kang didn’t like the decision he had to make, but there wasn’t much choice. He turned and began the walk back to the clinic, putting the search on hold for now.

A dead branch scraped across his jacket as he passed, like it was trying to snag him and hold him back.

Or maybe that was guilt.

He kept telling himself she’d show up, muddy and annoyed, ready to call him dramatic for chasing after her.

But deep down, he knew.

Something wasn’t right.

12

Kang paced the veranda, glancing at his watch every few seconds. The wait was getting to him. This town wasn’t that big. What was taking Sheriff Stacks so long?

The clinic sat on a private lot, connected to the main road by a dirt path that disappeared into darkness. Just staring at it was enough to piss him off. The guilt he felt for leaving Abby behind hadn’t let up, but he knew coming back to regroup had been the right move. Still, he wished he’d called the sheriff like Vera initially suggested. Too late now.

Vera popped her head out a couple of times, once to check on him and another to thank him again for helping with her husband. She seemed to feel a bit guilty herself.

“Vera, let me just put this out there. Our decision to split up had nothing to do with you or your husband,” Kang said. “We do this all the time.”

Just then, headlights cut through the trees. A few seconds later, the sheriff’s Interceptor rolled to a stop. Behind him were two more vehicles. One was Becket’s Tahoe, and the other held four locals, who began pulling gear from the trunk.

Kang was genuinely relieved to see them.

“Sheriff Stacks,” Kang said as he stepped off the porch, forcing civility into his tone. “Appreciate your speedy arrival.”

“No need to ask twice to help out a fellow lawman.” Stacks dragged his feet up toward the steps, his usual unbothered swagger in full effect.

Becket trailed behind, giving Kang a silent nod, as if their earlier run-in hadn’t happened. Kang gave a curt nod back.

The volunteers looked like hunters. Men who knew the terrain.

“I know you’re eager to get started,” Stacks said. “I’d be worried, too, if I lost my partner. But I assure you, she’s not in any real danger. There are creeks around here. She won’t go thirsty. It’s chilly, but Agent Kane seems like the kind of woman who can handle herself.”

“She can,” Kang said flatly. “Unless there’s something else to be said, I say we get started.”

The plan was simple: spread out in a line and sweep the woods in a grid.

Flashlights cut through the dark as the group moved out. Kang positioned himself at the end of the line, far from Stacks and exactly where he wanted to be. Becket quietly drifted over to join him.

They crisscrossed a wide swath of forest. The terrain was mostly flat, broken only by a few gentle slopes. They’d agreed early that Abby wouldn’t have gone uphill. She was too smart for that. Still, Kang couldn’t shake the thought of her out here, in total darkness. No flashlight. No compass. Just wandering.

The deeper they pushed into the trees, the more the woods changed. In daylight, this might’ve looked like any ordinary stretch of wildland. But in the darkness, the forest was something else entirely. Dark and eerie, straight out of a Brothers Grimm tale.

The canopy pressed down like a lid, sealing off the starry sky and making every branch look like an arm reaching out. Kang swept his light side to side. The beam felt thin and weak. He knew that wasn’t the case.

Kang thought of Jane Doe. She’d been out here with no shoes, coat, or flashlight. Being in these woods shifted his perspective. You didn’t grasp how brutal they were at night until you’d lived it. She’d made it through once, only to vanish again. Back-to-back hell.

Kang glanced left, then right. No one else seemed bothered by the conditions. He picked up his pace.

Becket edged closer. “Tough break with Agent Kane, huh?” he said quietly.

“The field can be unpredictable,” Kang replied, eyes scanning the forest as his beam swept side to side. “You said earlier it’s impossible to get lost in these woods. Still believe that?”

Becket hesitated. “I do. I mean…usually. Maybe she twisted an ankle and decided to stay put. I don’t think she ran into a bear.”

“Why not?”

“They’re not common. Besides, they usually avoid humans.”

“So, probability’s low.”

“Very low.”

“But not zero.” Kang’s tone shut down further optimism.

He’d thought about calling in backup more than once. But in his gut, he still believed Abby would come stumbling out of the woods at any moment—muddy, irritated, and wanting something to eat. That was the image he clung to.

From a procedural standpoint, he and Abby hadn’t done anything wrong. Divide and conquer was standard. This could’ve just as easily happened to him.

But as minutes stretched into hours, Kang’s confidence began to erode. And Becket’s nervous chatter wasn’t helping.

At 10:00 p.m., Stacks called off the search.

“We’ll hit it again at first light,” the sheriff said. “More ground, more men. She’s trained. She’s probably holed up somewhere. We’ll find her. Appreciate your help with Jane Doe.”

Kang clenched his jaw. That wasn’t the point. Abby didn’t just vanish. And who said we’re taking Jane Doe off your hands?

Apparently, Stacks still thought they were. Which meant his and Abby’s side trip with Becket was still off his radar.

“I’ll round up a dozen volunteers for the morning,” Becket said, eyes avoiding Kang’s. “We’ll leave no stone unturned.”

On the walk back, Kang pulled Becket aside. “Why does the sheriff think we’re taking Jane Doe with us?”

Becket shrugged. “He must be assuming. I didn’t say anything.”

“Stacks didn’t even mention her. It’s like he doesn’t care.”

“He doesn’t. He just wants her gone. Doesn’t care how.”

“That’s two missing people in the same patch of woods. One of them an FBI agent. You still think this is just bad luck?”

Becket sighed. “I’m at a loss.”

“Well, the sheriff doesn’t appear to be. He comes across as someone who’s simply checking boxes.”

“He’s always like that.”

Kang stayed quiet the rest of the walk back. He still believed Abby was out there somewhere, frustrated and cold but alive. Daylight would bring more help. They’d find her.

Back at the clinic, Becket mentioned there was a tiny motel in town.

“I’d offer my couch, but I’m guessing that’s a hard pass.”

“Yeah,” Kang said. “A motel is fine.”

They agreed to meet back at the clinic at dawn. By the time the sheriff left, the clinic was dark. Vera had likely gone to bed. And now was the time for truth. Kang held Becket back from getting into his car.

“Stacks doesn’t know we visited the scene, does he?”

“Nope,” Becket said. “That’s why he thinks you’re taking Jane Doe.”

“He’s not even treating her disappearance as a concern. She’s a missing person. Period.”

Becket remained quiet, kicking at the ground with his shoe.

“I’ve got a responsibility to find Abby. And now I’m tied to Jane Doe too. Something’s not right with the way Stacks is running things.”

“You think he’s hiding something?”

“I know he is. And if I have to investigate the whole department to find out what, I will.”

“Just be cautious. He doesn’t like surprises.”

“You might end up taking the hit.” Kang gave him a look. “Unless you come work for me.”

Becket blinked. “That’s not an official offer, is it?”

“It is if you want it. But decide fast.”

Becket looked down, then nodded. “All right. Deal.”

Later that night, Kang sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering just above the screen.

Call it in? Or wait?

If he reported Abby missing now, Quantico would light up. A full team would descend by morning. But if she came stumbling in at sunrise, wet and pissed and hungry, she’d never let him live it down.

Kang, you called in the damn cavalry?

He exhaled through his nose, set the phone aside. The room was quiet, aside from the clock on the wall ticking. The motel was two stories, eight rooms total. He stood, moved to the window, and pulled the curtain aside for no reason other than to look—and froze.

A figure stood across the street, just beyond the reach of the streetlamp’s glow. Hands in pockets. Body relaxed. Head tilted up, staring straight at him.

Kang squinted.

A cigarette flared orange in the darkness. The person wore a hat…one of those stiff-brimmed campaign hats. As far as Kang knew, only two people in town wore those. Becket and Stacks. Only one of them smoked. And it wasn’t Becket.

13

My eyes cracked open to blinding light, then slammed shut again as the fluorescent glare burned my retinas.

Ugh.

My face was pressed against something hard and cold. A floor. Every inch of me ached, especially the side I was lying on. My poor hips. And the headache. It was a constant throbbing.

One thought ran through my mind. Not again.

I rolled onto my back and braced myself before opening my eyes again. I didn’t need to see a bad guy with a gun to know what had happened. I’d been here before. I was a captive.

But why me? What cosmic deal did I break to deserve this? Sure, I’m an FBI agent—it comes with the job. But twice in a short period of time? Really?

The last time it happened, I woke up sore, dehydrated, on a moldy mattress in the middle of the jungle.

Why couldn’t it be Kang for once? Why do I always get the rotten deal? I bet he’s eating right now.

I took a few breaths and forced myself to take stock. Slowly, I opened my eyes again, letting them adjust. The room was clean with blank concrete walls. Homogenized and institutional.

Better than a hut, I guess.

The air smelled of cleaner and something metallic, like a hospital wiped too many times. The floor left a film of grit on my palm when I pushed myself up to sit.

There was a single door. No handle on my side. Just a small metal hatch toward the lower half, like a prison tray slot.

Do they intend to feed me?

A dull, steady hum caught my attention. There was a vent in the ceiling pushing out air.

There was something else too. High in the corner, protruding from the ceiling, was a black half bubble: a camera.

The sight of it made my spine stiffen. Someone was watching. Taking notes.

I reached up to the back of my head, where I remembered the blow landing. Tender, but no blood. I did a full body check: arms, legs, fingers, toes. Everything worked. No visible injuries. Just one missing reality: my gear. My ID, phone, gun…anything personal had been taken.

I stood to test my balance. Still there. I walked a few laps around the room, fingers brushing the smooth walls. The door was solid metal: industrial, heavy, and locked tight.

Eventually, I sat, back against the wall. With no windows or watch, I had no sense of time. But I figured I couldn’t have been here more than a few hours. How long would I stay? That was the real question.

I must’ve fallen asleep, because I woke up curled on my side, neck stiff from the angle. I didn’t move right away. Aside from the hum of the vent, it was quiet. I lay there, debating if I should go back to sleep. And then I heard it.

A child’s laughter coming from the other side of the door. It was faint and echoed. For a moment, I thought I’d imagined it. But then it came again. A high-pitched giggle, light and fast.

My skin prickled.

I pushed myself up and scooted to the door, pressing my ear to the seam. Footsteps, light and quick, could be heard just outside. Laughter swelled, moving past the door. Then it faded, vanishing into the silence like it had never been there at all. I remained frozen, with my ear against the door, heart hammering.

Child’s laughter? In a place like this? Either I was hit harder than I thought, or I’ve just been dragged into something far more disturbing.

14

Kang didn’t sleep well. He drifted in and out all night, restless and alert. He continued to run through scenarios.

Call in backup now.

Wait for the morning to search.

Screw the night. Go out again.

Trust that Abby will find her way back by morning.

It all became one big pot of jambalaya.

With dawn coming soon, Kang climbed out of bed and hopped into the shower. The hot water did little to ease the guilt gnawing at him.

I thought it’d take ten minutes, maybe fifteen max to catch up with her. But then again, Abby is the one person I would never second-guess out in the field. She’s trained. She’s armed. These woods were supposed to be safe. Why would I call it in right away?

Kang had worked with Abby long enough to trust her judgment. If she’d been the one who stayed behind, she wouldn’t have hesitated to let him go. They’d split up like this countless times. It was standard procedure between them. But now…

She was missing.

By the time he made it to the lobby, the sun had cracked the horizon. The complimentary coffee tasted bad, but he drank it anyway. The air outside was colder than expected. He stood on the front steps, sipping slowly, trying not to think about where she might be or what condition she was in.

Becket’s Tahoe pulled up a few minutes later. The deputy rolled down his window.

“Good morning, Agent Kang,” he said. “Hop in. We’re meeting the others at the clinic.”

Kang climbed in without a word.

“We secured five more volunteers on top of the guys from last night,” Becket said. “All locals. All decent trackers. Stacks mapped out a larger grid. We’re assuming Agent Kane may have gone farther than expected.”

Kang nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself.

When they arrived at the clinic, Stacks was already there, briefing the group. No drawn-out speeches. No small talk. Just flashlights, maps, and instructions.

The team headed out right away.

The sun filtered weakly through the pines, casting long shadows across the uneven ground. The birds were silent. The wind calm. Just the shuffle of boots on pine needles.

“Always creeps me out, this time of day,” one of the volunteers muttered up ahead. “Before the birds start up. It’s like the woods are listening.”

Becket gave a dismissive shrug. “Don’t mind what he said. That’s just nerves. Trust me.”

But Kang didn’t shrug it off. He felt it too. These woods…there was something about them that gave him the creeps.

“I looked you two up last night,” Becket said, voice low. “Didn’t realize the FBI sent their A-team.”

Kang shot him a sideways glance but said nothing.

“Chasing Chinatown, Suitcase Girl, the Fire Catcher…all incredible cases. And the Puzzle Maker? Damn, that one’s a case study for undergrads studying criminal justice.”

Still, Kang kept his eyes forward, scanning the terrain. The last thing he wanted was a fanboy retrospective.

“I mean, I don’t know what about this Jane Doe set off alarms,” Becket continued, “but sometimes a nothing case turns into something. This might be one of those cases.”

Kang relented. “You’re not wrong. Okay, my turn to ask a question. Why are you working for a satellite office instead of applying to a bigger department? You clearly want more. Why not chase it?”

Becket shrugged. “It’s hard to find offices with staff openings. I guess I also didn’t think I had what it took. People assume if you’re from a small town, you’re simple. There’s truth to that, but not all of us are idiots.”

Kang nodded. “If you want to be a great investigator, you’ve got to trust your gut. Develop instincts. Believe you can solve any case.”

“You believe that?” Becket asked, surprised. “That you can solve any case?”

“I do.”

Becket looked out at the trees, his hands buried in the pockets of his windbreaker. “Do you believe we’ll find Agent Kane today?”

Kang studied his profile. “Sure. Don’t you?”

Becket didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained fixed ahead, jaw tight. Then a small shake of his head.

“No.”

15

I jolted awake. The sound of metal snapping open echoed in the tiny room. The steel hatch in the door was open. A beat later, a plastic container slid through, followed by a voice. A young male.

“Take the food.”

“Hey, where am I? Who are you?” I asked, sitting up.

“Take the food,” he said again, more forcefully.

I grabbed the container, and he shoved it the rest of the way through before slamming the hatch shut.

“Wait! Answer my questions,” I called out, but he was already gone.

I sat back down, against the wall. The bottom of the container was warm. I peeled off the plastic lid. It was a sectioned tray: mashed potatoes, beef stew, and a scoop of peas and carrots. The kind of meal you’d expect in a hospital. A spork, still wrapped in plastic, was taped to the underside of the lid.

Not gourmet, but I was starving. I finished every bite, then immediately wished I had something to drink.

As if on cue, footsteps returned. The hatch opened again. A plastic bottle of water slid inside.

“Sorry. I forgot this,” the same voice said. Then the hatch clanged shut.

The apology caught me off guard. What was a polite young man doing guarding me?

I leaned back against the wall, my full belly comforting me, even though my head still throbbed a tiny bit and the back of my neck felt tight. But I had calories in me now. My brain could get back to work.

On cue, my mind drifted to the woods, to Jane Doe. To the moment right before I was knocked out.

I had seen my attacker for maybe a second. It was a man, clean shaven. Young, twenties. Not old. Nothing else really stuck. But whoever brought me food wasn’t the same person. I could feel that in my gut.

So, who were these people?

If Jane Doe had been running from someone, maybe they’d caught up to her. And I just happened to be there. Wrong place, wrong time. A witness they didn’t want.

And if these were the people she was running from, why? What made them so bad? This wasn’t clear at all. No psychopath vibes were present. Was this nothing more than a domestic situation?

The latch jiggled again.

I moved fast, scooting closer. If it was the same person, maybe I could build rapport. But when the hatch opened, I froze. A small giggle drifted through. I peered through the opening.

Staring back at me was a child.

A little blond boy with wide blue eyes, grinning with a missing front tooth. He looked about six or seven. He was clean and appeared well fed, with no signs of distress. He didn’t look like a captive.

“Hello?” I said, uncertain. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Toby,” he said, still giggling.

“I’m Abby. It’s nice to meet you.”

I pressed my face against the slot to get a better look outside. I expected a dark hallway with flickering lights, the smell of mildew, and roaches scurrying across the walls.

Instead it had bright tile floors, white walls, and fluorescent lighting. The place looked more like a medical facility than a dungeon.

“Toby,” I said gently, “can you tell me where we are?”

He looked left and right, still smiling, then crooked his finger at me to come closer again. I leaned in, expecting a whisper.

His expression changed, just for a second. He checked both directions again, like he knew he wasn’t supposed to be there. Then he brought his mouth close to the opening.

“DarkBright,” he whispered. There it was, that same word Jane Doe had screamed over and over.

His smile stretched wider, as if he was proud to have told me a secret. Before I could ask another question, he raised his other hand to the slot to wave goodbye, and my breath caught.

All five of his fingers were missing.

16

After four hours of combing the woods with zero results, the group returned to the clinic for lunch. The sun had pushed through the clouds, but it didn’t bring much warmth or hope. A stiff breeze rattled the trees at the edge of the property and sent a flock of birds skyward.

Kang stood on the veranda. It creaked with every shift of his weight.

Behind him, Vera had set out a small table with sandwiches piled high on a silver platter, two large bowls of pretzels and chips, and a wicker basket of apples, oranges, and bananas. A cooler of iced cola and bottled water sat to the side.

Kang grabbed two sandwiches, some pretzels, an apple, and a bottle of water. He made his way to a chair at the far end of the veranda and sat in silence, chewing, staring out at the woods.

Becket joined him with a full plate. “Ham and cheese and tuna. I got one of each.”

Kang didn’t respond.

Becket tried again. “I know you’re worried about your partner being lost out there⁠—”

“I’m not worried about her being lost.”

Becket frowned. “I’m not following.”

Kang turned toward him. “We searched a large area last night. Covered even more today. We even hit the roads you said she would’ve crossed. She’s not lost. She vanished in a small, contained area. Can you make sense of that?”

Becket looked away and took a bite of his sandwich.

Kang didn’t let up. “Those woods…there’s something wrong with them. Your volunteers keep making jokes about strange things happening out there. Why?”

“They’re just stories,” Becket muttered. “Superstition. It’s nothing.”

Kang stared at Becket. His jaw clenched. His fingers curled slowly around the plate in his lap.

“You think this is a joke? Something to be taken lightly?”

Becket opened his mouth to reply but stopped.

That was when Kang’s hand shot out and clamped hard on Becket’s thigh. He winced as Kang’s grip tightened like a vise.

“My partner vanished. This is a small forest that you and everyone else insist is impossible to get lost in.” Kang’s voice dropped. “She has a weapon. If she were hurt or disoriented, she could’ve fired a shot to alert me. But she didn’t. Which means something else is going on.”

Becket grunted as Kang’s grip tightened. The pain was obvious. His face reddened as he tried to mask it.

“What’s in those woods?” Kang asked, teeth clenched.

Becket squirmed, finally yanking his leg free. He rubbed it with a shaky hand. “Sheesh. Calm down.”

Kang looked as if he was about to lose it.

“Sorry, wrong choice of words,” Becket said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I want to find her. I swear I do.”

“Then why haven’t we? You’re Mr. Outdoors. Two people have gone missing, Jane Doe and Agent Kane, not very far from where we’re sitting. We’ve combed an entire wooded area and found nothing. And nobody here seems particularly alarmed. It’s as if this were normal. It’s not. People don’t vanish into thin air.”

Becket opened his mouth but held back again.

Kang leaned forward. “Finish that thought.”

“Okay, okay. Give me a sec.” Becket glanced around nervously.

Kang followed his gaze to Stacks, who stood with some of the volunteers in front of the clinic. Their voices carried, light and careless. They chatted and laughed between bites of sandwiches. But Stacks wasn’t laughing. He watched everyone, like a poker player scanning the room for a sloppy tell.

“I know it looks shady,” Becket said, voice low. “And maybe it is. Or maybe it’s not. I don’t know.”

Kang had worked hundreds of volunteer search operations. People didn’t joke or laugh like it was a picnic. They were drained, faces tight with worry, shadows under their eyes from no sleep. But the men here? None of that.

“This feels staged,” Kang muttered. “A pretend search for my benefit.”

Becket said nothing, just continued to watch the volunteers.

“You better start telling me what you really think,” Kang said. “Because I’m not buying this dog and pony show.”

“Stacks has pull,” Becket said quietly. “Connections in county government. Stacks knows how to craft a report to his liking.”

“So, this search is for show?” Kang said, his voice low and sharp. “To support his report.”

Nervous sweat beaded on Becket’s upper lip.

“Are you holding back on me about Jane Doe or anything here?” Kang asked.

“I told you everything that comes to mind.”

“But not everything you suspect.”

Becket took a breath. “Look, I don’t understand how she showed up looking like she’d been lost for days. I sure as hell don’t understand how she and your partner both disappeared from the same stretch of woods.”

Kang leaned in. “Do you really want to find out what’s going on, or are you also going through the motions?”

“Of course I do. Sheesh, why do you think I’m not being truthful with you?”

“Because right now, everyone’s acting like only one person is missing. And even that’s debatable.”

“I want to help. I just don’t want to get buried in the fallout.” His eyes drifted again toward Stacks. “If this blows back on me, I’m done. No other town’s gonna hire a deputy who burned his own sheriff.”

“I outrank him,” Kang said. “You assist me on this, you’re helping to locate a missing federal agent. You refuse and you become an accessory.”

The porch creaked again. A crow cawed somewhere beyond the trees. Becket glanced toward the woods, and unease crept across his face. Kang saw it. Becket knew more than he was letting on.

He swallowed. Then nodded. “Fine. I’ll back your play. But if this goes south, I better not be the one they hang.”

17

Kang and Becket slipped away without so much as a glance from anyone, confirming what Kang already suspected—no one there gave a rat’s ass about Abby or Jane Doe. Especially not Stacks. The sheriff didn’t bother hiding it. He was comfortable in his own backyard. But if he thought obstruction of a federal investigation didn’t apply to him, he was dead wrong.

“Where are we heading?” Becket asked as they drove off.

“Anywhere,” Kang said. “I just thought you’d be a bit more honest without your boss staring you down.”

Becket drove them to Pam’s Coffee Shop. It was public enough to avoid suspicion, quiet enough to talk.

Inside, Kang recognized a few of the same locals from the day before, sitting at the counter, nursing half-empty mugs like they hadn’t moved. The waitress with the feathered bangs spotted him and offered a small smile. Kang gave a polite nod.

After placing their orders, Kang and Becket sat by the window. Becket stirred his coffee but didn’t drink it. Kang waited, watching him.

“You said earlier you were investigating Jane Doe on your own,” Kang said, finally. “Let’s run through everything again. Leave nothing out.”

“You think she’s connected to Agent Kane’s disappearance?” Becket asked.

“Finding either one will lead to the other.”

Becket leaned forward and rattled off the areas he’d checked: back roads, spots near the highway, the rec area. “No leads came up,” he said. “No car, no campsite, no personal stuff. Just Jane Doe and the clothes on her back.”

He mentioned his conversation with the rec area’s director, who didn’t recall the Jane Doe but promised to follow up with his staff. No one had recognized her.

“The injuries didn’t make sense to me,” Becket added. “Bruises, scratches, missing teeth, fingernails, even a pinkie toe. Someone doesn’t lose those out here by accident.”

Kang listened in silence, sipping coffee from a chipped mug. Becket kept talking about the woods themselves, how pitch black they got, how different they felt at night. Even though the forest looked harmless during the day, it could be dangerous at night.

“That said, I still think it’s tough to stay lost out there. You walk long enough, you hit a road. Just how it is out here.”

Kang shifted in his seat. “You did all this before we arrived? Even after Stacks told you to stop?”

“Yeah. But when I heard the feds were coming in, I figured I was out. You’d either see what I saw or take her off my hands. I didn’t expect a third option.”

“We’d actually decided to leave without her. But before we made it final, we circled back to the clinic to talk to Dr. Coleman. That’s when we found out she’d run off.”

“Imagine if you hadn’t,” Becket said, shaking his head. “She’d be forgotten by now. Just gone. And you’d be back in San Francisco without a clue.”

Kang crinkled his brow. “What about the Colemans? Would they have gone along with that? Forgotten about her?”

“I think Stacks would’ve staged a half-assed search, called it a day, and written it up as a mental breakdown. She’d have joined thousands of missing persons who are never found.”

“Did you ever check missing persons in neighboring counties? Yosemite? Stanislaus National Forest?”

“Nah. Had it on my radar, but once I backed off, it didn’t feel like my place.”

Becket set his phone on the table. The screen lit up with a map marked by gold stars. “I dropped pins for every place she might’ve come from—trailheads, campgrounds, the rec area.”

Kang scanned it. “What’s this big gray area here?” he asked, pointing.

“Hillside Estates,” Becket said. “Private development. For the rich folks who want rustic views but still have luxury spas alongside their Pelotons.”

“Looks massive.”

“It is. They’ve got their own hospital, fire department, school. Totally self-contained. Built before I came on. It’s not just a gated community—they’re incorporated. The place runs like its own town. We don’t go in unless invited, and we rarely hear from them. They handle their problems in-house.”

Kang’s brow furrowed. “Interesting.”

Becket exhaled. “You think Jane Doe came from there?”

“She doesn’t exactly fit the mold,” Kang admitted. “But it’s a place worth visiting.”

“I’ve never been inside,” Becket said. “They don’t usually talk to us, but I can try and see if⁠—”

“I don’t need an invitation. We go now. I want to rule this out today.”

Becket hesitated. “From what I hear, they’re not friendly.”

Kang smirked. “Neither am I.”

18

A clean, rounded fist.

It was if someone had deliberately sculpted the ends smooth. I couldn’t shake that image from my thoughts. It was so unexpected. So horrific.

Was it a birth defect?

A terrible accident?

Jane Doe’s injuries popped into my head, making me wonder if Toby… Could it have been deliberate?

I sat back, spine rigid against the wall. My heart was still hammering from the sight. A child with no fingers, whispering that same eerie word.

DarkBright.

I was lost in thought when the hatch dropped open again. Toby had returned. Still giggling, still smiling like it was a game of hide-and-seek. The short reprieve had given me just enough time to recover from the shock of his hand. I didn’t want to spook him. He might be my only link to the outside.

I dropped to my knees, again trying to see past him, looking left and right. He was alone, like the last time. Toby crouched down, tilting his head sideways to peer back at me through the slot. His blond hair fell over one eye.

“Do you live here with your family?” I asked.

He nodded, loose and wobbly.

“Are they nearby?” I pointed down both ends of the hallway.

He pointed behind him, then shifted his balance, one foot kicked up behind him like he was playing airplane.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I have a sister. Her name’s Tabitha. She’s eleven.”

“That’s a pretty name. And how old are you?”

“I’m six.”

“You’re practically grown,” I said with a small smile. “Where’s Tabitha now?”

“She has school today.”

That stopped me. School in a place like this? Is it possible that there’s some normalcy in this bizarre prison?

“Don’t you have school today?”

He shook his head, still smiling.

“Toby, do you know where we are?”

“I told you already,” he sing-songed. “We’re in the Dark.”

“What do you mean by the Dark? Is that short for DarkBright?”

Toby just giggled.

“So… DarkBright. Is that the name of the town you live in?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept smiling that crooked, gap-toothed smile.

I was about to press again when the sudden slam of a door echoed down the hallway. We both flinched. His smile fell instantly.

“Toby, you know you’re not supposed to be here.” A woman’s voice, firm, no nonsense. Her footsteps clicked down the hall, unhurried but deliberate.

She came into view a second later, only partially visible through the hatch. I saw the faded blue of mom jeans, the hem of a striped sweater, the edge of her hand as she reached for Toby.

She stopped and turned to the door. I could feel her presence, a slight hesitation like she wasn’t sure if she should say something.

I spoke fast. “Hello? Who are you? Where am I? What do you want with me?”

Her body remained stiff, undeterred. The silence suddenly unnerving.

Then she said coolly, “Forgive my son. He’s curious. He shouldn’t have bothered you.”

I craned my neck, straining to catch her face, but the hatch cut off my view. She reached down, took Toby’s wrist. He didn’t resist. Just stood there, eyes downcast, like a kid caught in a lie.

“Wait, before you go, can you tell me what this place is?” I tried again. “Please. I don’t understand.” I pushed two fingers through the hatch, desperate to make contact.

She pulled Toby back before I could touch him.

“Father will tell you when he’s ready,” she said flatly.

She tugged Toby’s hand. Before they left, Toby gave me a cheerful little wave with his hand—the one without fingers. His mother shut the hatch.

I was alone again.

I leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. The soft whoosh of ventilation was the only sound left.

Father will tell you when he’s ready.

She hadn’t said her father or Toby’s father. Just…Father.

Did she misspeak or was it meant that way, like a title and not a person?

19

Kang and Becket made the thirty-minute drive to Hillside Estates, following a winding road that cut through dense pine and oak. It was far enough from Knights Ferry to feel disconnected and surrounded by nothing but wilderness. A deer grazed lazily off the shoulder, unbothered by their passing. In the distance, the Sierra Nevada rose, blue and majestic against the sky. Kang understood the appeal.

But then came the gates.

Massive ironwork framed by stone columns. A brick monument marked the entrance, with a fountain gurgling peacefully beside it. Engraved beneath the development’s name was a slogan: Stay as long as you can.

Kang narrowed his eyes. “Strange motto.”

Beyond the gates, there wasn’t much to see, just a single-lane road that curved out of sight, swallowed by trees. Unlike in most gated communities, there were no homes lining the entrance, no glimpse of cul-de-sacs or rooftops. Just a private road leading into the woods.

Becket pulled up to the guardhouse. A uniformed guard stepped out, clipboard in hand, all polished professionalism.

“Deputy Becket,” the guard greeted. “Was there a call?”

Kang raised an eyebrow, surprised. He’d been under the impression Becket had never set foot here.

“No call,” Becket said smoothly as he held out a photo of Jane Doe. “We’re hoping you recognize this woman.”

The guard studied it, then shook his head. “Can’t say that I do. And I know every resident here.”

“Could she be a guest?”

“Possible,” the guard said, noncommittal. “But unlikely.”

“Mind if we take a quick drive around?” He pointed to the gate.

The guard hesitated, unsure if this was a decision he could make on his own. “Just a moment.” He disappeared into the booth, presumably to make a call.

Kang leaned toward Becket. “I thought you’d never been here.”

“I haven’t,” Becket said. “Not once. Don’t know that guy either.”

A few minutes later, the guard reemerged with a smile. “You’re in luck. Ms. Bright is available. She’ll be down shortly.”

“Who’s that?” Kang asked, as he watched the guard walk away.

“No clue,” Becket replied, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

A sleek four-seater golf cart zipped toward the gate. In the passenger seat sat a woman in a lilac pantsuit with wavy blond hair and a perfect smile. She waved cheerfully. Behind the wheel was a stone-faced man in a tight polo and aviators. Clearly security.

The cart stopped, and the woman stepped out in one fluid motion, her heels clicking as she strode up.

“I’m Madeline Bright, but please call me Maddie,” she said. “We’re casual around here.” She looked up at the Tahoe’s driver’s side window. “And you’re Deputy Becket, with the sheriff’s office, yes?”

“I am.”

“Well, thank you for keeping our forests safe.”

Her eyes shifted to Kang, her smile still unwavering. “And this serious gentleman?”

Kang showed his credentials. “Agent Kang.”

“FBI?” she said with bright mock surprise. “Well, I was told a woman is missing. I’ll do whatever I can to assist.”

“Do you mind if I ask your role here?” Kang asked.

“I’m president of the homeowners’ association. Think of me as the resident liaison-slash-cheerleader.” She gave a practiced laugh. “You can park just over there.” She pointed to the side of the road, outside the property. “It’s easier to get around by cart.”

A few moments later, the three of them loaded into the cart.

“This is Wendel Newport. He’s my head of security.”

He gave a curt nod before turning the wheel and ferrying them smoothly into the development.

They rode in silence, the canopy of trees overhead dappling the path in shifting patches of light. It was serene and peaceful.

“Is this all part of the property?” Kang asked.

“It is,” Maddie replied. “We refer to this part as the bumper. It’s the space separating Hillside from the outside.”

Eventually, the woods gave way to immaculate streets lined with bright-white sidewalks and manicured lawns. They passed the occasional jogger and a few residents walking well-groomed dogs. The homes were spacious and elegant, all two-story, with five distinct models repeated throughout the neighborhood in a subtle pattern.

Then the landscape opened up, revealing a large two-story building in the distance. Modern. Sleek. The tinted windows gave it the appearance of a small corporate office, but the stone accents and wood beams echoed the luxury ski lodges of Aspen.

Around it sat tennis and pickleball courts and a sprawling pool deck. People were already out, playing, splashing, and lounging in the sun. Everything was pristine. Very polished. Not a stray leaf in sight.

“This is Hillside’s lovely recreational center,” Maddie said. “It houses our community center and the management offices for the development.” She led the way to the entrance.

Inside the center, they passed a detailed scale model of Hillside. Two receptionists smiled from behind the desk and counter. A couple in tennis whites chatted nearby. The place was light and open and smelled expensive. No wood-paneled walls, no rustic taxidermy. This wasn’t the wilderness. It was a lifestyle catalog––L.L.Bean for the ultrarich.

Maddie led them upstairs to her office, which was large, airy, and tastefully feminine. Another woman suddenly appeared with cold lemon water, handing a glass to Kang and Becket before disappearing just as quickly.

“Please have a seat.” Maddie motioned to a couple of leather chairs before slipping behind her desk and sitting.

Becket cleared his throat. “She was picked up a few nights ago, wandering the roads. We haven’t been able to identify her yet.” Becket pulled up the photo of Jane Doe on his phone before sliding it across the desk. “We’re eliminating possibilities. Hillside Estates is one of them.”

Maddie picked up the phone and studied the photo carefully. Concern crossed her face, but Kang noticed her glance. Subtle and quick to Newport, who stood just off to the side of her, still wearing his aviators.

“This is terrible,” Maddie finally said. “But no, I don’t recognize her. As for her being a guest here, it’s possible but unlikely. We log all visitors.” She snapped a photo of the Jane Doe picture with her phone. “Our concierge keeps ID and images on file while guests are on the property. We’ll know soon enough.”

Kang raised a brow. It sounded less like a neighborhood and more like a tech campus with security clearance.

“You’ve built quite a place,” he said. “The setting of nature with all the conveniences of the city.”

“That’s the dream,” Maddie said proudly. “Once you move in, you don’t want to leave.”

Kang nodded. “Families? Couples?”

“We started with couples—disposable income, easy onboarding. But demand grew so fast, we opened it up. We’re primarily families now. We’ve created something special here.”

“Do they, the families, live here full-time?”

“Oh yes,” Maddie said, smiling faintly. “That was the surprise. People started with the weekends. Then a couple of weeks. And before long, they never left.”

“Deputy Becket told me you’re fully self-sufficient. Your own emergency services, your own infrastructure.”

“We do all of that. Hospital, fire station, school system—we even have competing high schools.” She grinned. “Go Cougars!” She gave a playful fist pump.

“You make it sound like its own city.”

“In many ways, it is. Like living aboard a luxury cruise ship, but permanently.”

“It’s not for everyone, though,” Kang said carefully.

“No,” Maddie agreed. “But to the right people, it feels like paradise.”

“Would you mind showing us more?” he asked.

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. Then the smile returned. “Of course.”

This time she drove. No security detail from Newport. Kang sat up front. Becket rode in back.

They toured the downtown streets, where he spotted the usual suspects: an ice cream parlor, a one-screen cinema, clothing boutiques, manicured parks, and so on. Families strolled with strollers. Teenagers clustered in groups. Dogs chased each other in a small park.

Hillside even had the necessary businesses: an optometrist, accountants, a vet, and even a post office. This was small-town America, manufactured.

“How many homes are here?” Kang asked.

“One hundred fifty at last count,” Maddie said, puffing up with pride. “That’s huge for a gated community. Most hover around seventy to ninety.”

“Any plans to expand?”

“We could fit fifty more. We also have undeveloped land north of here. Hillside Estates 2 is in planning now.”

Kang looked around. Picture-perfect homes. Trimmed hedges. Smiling neighbors. Everyone looked like they belonged in a real estate brochure.

“What happens when the kids turn eighteen? They leave?”

“We added a very small community college,” Maddie said. “We found the older ones aren’t ready to fly the coop just yet. Another pleasant surprise.”

They were back in the suburbs with its manicured lawns, chatting neighbors, and ticking sprinklers. If ideal had a look, this was it. Kang glanced over his shoulder at Becket. He was smiling, enjoying the tour.

They slipped into the woods again, signaling the end. Around a bend, the gated entrance came into view.

“I’ll follow up with our concierge about your missing person,” she said. “I’ll even post her photo on the community board. I do hope she’s found and returned to her family. I’m sure she’s missed.”

“I appreciate your cooperation,” Kang said as he exited the golf cart.

Maddie barely waved goodbye before she sped off.

Kang watched the gates glide shut before climbing back into the Tahoe.

Becket exhaled heavily as he turned the key in the ignition. “Well, that was a waste of time,” he muttered. “Another dead end, huh?”

Kang shook his head before glancing at Becket. “Dead end? That place is the answer.”

20

I sat against the wall, dumbfounded. Was I a captive or a guest? Aside from the abduction, nothing about this felt like a typical hostage situation. I’d been taken, but I wasn’t suffering. I wasn’t even afraid. Just confused. I’d seen a woman and her child—Toby, the boy missing all five fingers on one hand. Neither of them seemed rattled.

But I hadn’t forgotten about Jane Doe.

Where was she now? Locked away in a room like mine? Would she have been shocked by Toby’s missing fingers? Or was that exactly what she was running from?

Was she in a room next to mine? My gut told me no. I would’ve heard her. Heard something. I hadn’t even heard food being delivered to anyone else. Toby hadn’t mentioned anyone either. He seemed to be visiting just me.

But that wasn’t the strangest part.

The way my voice carried, the place seemed massive. Something that should stand out. And if I was still near Knights Ferry, if I was no more than a thirty-minute hike from the clinic, where was Kang? Why hadn’t he found me?

And who was this Father person that woman mentioned?

Movement outside the door grabbed my attention. It opened, and a man in a sharp black suit stepped in, smiling like this was a social call. Late thirties and clean shaven. Behind him stood two others in black polos and khakis, tactical belts stocked with handguns and zip-tie restraints.

Okay. So, I am being held captive.

“Hello, Abby.” He stepped into the room, the scent of cologne trailing in behind him, spicy, earthy, with a hint of citrus.

He glanced down at the empty food tray, then snapped his fingers. One of the men stepped forward and quietly retrieved it. “I trust your meal was satisfactory.”

He held up my FBI credentials and extended them toward me. I stood and took the ID, slipping it into my back pocket.

“What about my phone and sidearm?” I asked, casually.

He chuckled like I’d made a clever joke. “Let me introduce myself,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Lucian Thorne.”

There was something disarming about him. He wasn’t threatening. Just pleasant. Like a well-trained maître d’. I shook his hand.

“Given you know who I am and what I do, I’ve gotta ask…” I gave him a look. “Why are you holding an FBI agent captive?”

“I’m sure you have many questions,” he said. “Would you mind coming with me? Perhaps we can work on having some of them answered.”

I followed him into the hallway. Bright lights, clean floors, and door after door lining both sides. It looked like ten feet repeated over and over.

The two guards trailed behind us. Whenever I glanced over my shoulder, they were eyeing me, as if waiting for me to take off running.

Lucian, on the other hand, walked like he was giving a tour of the Vatican. Upright posture, gliding stride. The man never blinked. Not once since we’d left the room. It was unnerving.

“So,” I said, “are you the grandfather of the boy who visited me earlier? His mom said ‘Father’ would answer my questions.”

Lucian smiled at my subtle jab. “The person she’s referring to is Father Dark. He’s not just her father. He’s a father to everyone here.”

Everyone? So, this is a creepy little cult?

“Father Dark runs… What? The Dark?” I asked.

“You could say that,” he said, completely unbothered.

We reached a secured door. Lucian pulled a key card from his jacket and placed it against the security pad. That’s when I noticed his fingernails. Manicured and glossed, without a single imperfection. Something I called tactical grooming. Every detail of this man appeared engineered to impress and control.

The scanner beeped, the door clicked open, and he pushed through.

The hallway beyond was shorter but identical.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Father Dark is also the Dark Lord of the Emasculate Hallway? Please don’t tell me his name is Lucifer.”

Lucian let out a soft chuckle. “Would you believe me if I did?”

“From what I’ve seen so far, I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“He’s more than a nickname. Father Dark provides a way of life that’s unattainable elsewhere.”

So, people really live here. Behind these doors. Willingly?

Lucian’s tone when he spoke never shifted. Everything he said felt rehearsed. Like a commercial he’d memorized. Very smooth and practiced.

We reached another set of double doors at the far end of the hall. Lucian stopped and turned to me.

“I know what your investigative mind must be thinking,” he said. “That this is a cult, and we’re all brainwashed.”

Uh, yeah.

“We’re not. We like to think of this place as our special community.”

He unlocked the doors but paused, his hand resting on the handle. “You’ll see soon enough, Abby. Everyone does, eventually.”

Then, with a dramatic sweep, the doors swung open.

“Welcome to the Darkside.”

I stepped inside. “What is this place?” I asked, stunned.

He smiled, voice low. “This is home.”

21

Stacks’s Interceptor screeched to a stop, kicking up a plume of dust, which drifted past the windshield. He cut the engine and stepped out, jaw tight, strides clipped as he marched toward the squat, weather-beaten bungalow. The screen door creaked on its hinges when he swung it open and let himself in without knocking.

Inside, the place smelled like reheated takeout that had gone bad. A worn recliner sat cocked at an angle near the window. A half-filled ashtray rested on the armrest, flanked by three empty soda cans and a Styrofoam cup with a dried-out straw. The TV was airing a news program. The walls were bare except for a single faded county-issued commendation plaque, which hung crooked.

Deputy Lionel Peel appeared from the hallway, walking slowly, hand pressed against his lower back until he spotted Stacks. Then he jerked upright, spine straighter, the “bad back” routine gone.

Stacks didn’t bother calling him on it. The injury had been his idea, after all. It was his way of freeing Peel up from deputy duties so he could do Stacks’s bidding. He tossed his campaign hat on the cluttered coffee table, knocking over an empty in the process.

“Sheesh, Stacks. A little notice next time,” Peel grumbled as he picked up the remote and muted the TV. “Thought it was someone from Internal Affairs. I’ve seen ’em sneaking around out front twice this month, trying to catch me in the act of faking my injury.”

Stacks didn’t sit. He hovered like a dark cloud. “We’ve got bigger problems than your fake injury getting flagged. And unless you’ve got good news for me, you better be prepping for a miraculous recovery.”

Peel’s expression soured. He rubbed the side of his face, then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Depends on how you define good. They have her.”

Stacks blinked. “Which one?”

Peel took a moment to think. “Both, actually. Agent Kane and that damn Jane Doe. They’re both at Hillside.”

Stacks’s fingers twitched near his belt. “You’re sure?”

Peel nodded.

Stacks paced near the front window, turning slow, deliberate circles.

“I spent a day and a half faking a goddamn search, busting my ass for show. What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“You think I’m thrilled?” Peel snapped. “They should have picked that woman up from the clinic the night Becket found her wandering around the woods. That was the deal, right? No exposure. No risk.”

Stacks stopped pacing. His hands hit his hips. “That was the deal. We don’t interfere, we don’t investigate, we don’t ask. They do their thing. We look the other way. And in return, they pad our retirement.”

Peel shook his head slowly. “This isn’t our fault. They broke that deal. Do they expect us to clean up their mess?”

There was a long silence. The TV, still on mute, showed a local news anchor smiling through a story about a bake sale.

Stacks finally muttered, “You know what happens next, right? If Kane doesn’t surface soon, the bureau’s gonna roll in here with a force this place has never seen. And I don’t have the power to run interference on that.”

Peel’s eyes flicked toward the window, then back. “There’s more.”

Stacks froze. “Of course there is. Spit it out.”

“The other agent, Kang, is inside Hillside.”

Dread appeared on Stacks’s face. “Why? How does he even know about that place?”

“Ask your golden boy,” Peel said bitterly. “Becket’s the one showing him around.”

Stacks’s face turned to stone. “That little double-crossing shit.”

“Told you we should’ve cut him loose months ago. He’s a rule book cop. No gray area. Hell, he still believes in the chain of command.”

“Kang’s bureau. They don’t like waiting for warrants. If he so much as sniffs something is off⁠—”

“He’ll tear the place apart,” Peel finished. “If he thinks she’s there, he’s not leaving without her.”

Stacks snatched his hat off the table and jammed it onto his head.

“Do you want me to request a meeting?” Peel asked, picking up his phone.

“No.” Stacks was already at the door. “We’re past being polite.”

He stepped outside, jaw clenched, and muttered under his breath, “I’ll handle this.”

22

Lucian came up beside me and whispered into my ear, “It’s not polite to stare.”

But how could I not?

The space in front of me looked like something out of a luxury hotel brochure.

A massive atrium stretched seven stories high, ringed with balconies and glass-fronted walkways. Trees grew from giant planters, their canopies spreading overhead. The space was part public park, part corporate plaza, and all kinds of surreal.

The floor was spotless. A smooth concrete polished to a sheen but warm toned, almost golden. It gave the illusion of sunlight. The air had a slightly floral scent: lavender.

People wandered through the open area. Some arm in arm, others in groups, chatting and laughing. A number were sitting at tables, playing chess or cards. There were benches scattered around.

I didn’t miss the armed men standing at the edges. Guards, like the two who were escorting us. Black polo shirts. Guns on their hips.

But what really made me stop wasn’t the scale of the place. It was the people and their…differences.

A woman crutched across the marble floor, one pant leg pinned up to reveal a missing leg. A man with one arm carried a book while talking with someone beside him. Two teenagers passed by, one blind, sweeping the space with a black cane. A gaunt man sat alone at a table, skeletal, eyes glued to a crossword in front of him.

And then there were the others, the ones that appeared healthy and whole, physically unmarked. Regardless of what group they fell into, they all looked happy. No one seemed distressed. There was just pure content. Like they’d finally found peace.

Last, there was something almost uniform about them all. It was as if a director had just shouted “Action!” and the extras on a movie set went into motion.

My ears picked up the low hum of classical music floating through the air from hidden speakers. Soft and haunting.

Lucian led me forward, and I noticed how people parted, clearing a path. Conversations dimmed. Heads turned briefly toward me before looking away.

Two children raced past me, giggling as they wove between bodies. One brushed my side and flashed a smile. I looked at their hands to see if they had all their fingers. They did.

“The neighbors,” Lucian said matter-of-factly.

Now that the initial wonder had started to dissolve, I saw the place for what it really was. A massive housing complex, complete with balconies, doors, and walkways. People were milling about on every level, leaning on railings, laughing and gesturing as they spoke, some carrying unmarked packages. Pretty much going about their day.

“You mean to tell me all these people live here?”

Lucian’s smile didn’t waver. “I don’t think I need to tell you anything. You seem to be coming to the right conclusions.”

We continued weaving through the crowd. I caught only bits of hushed conversation and stolen glances. There appeared to be a warmth and civility among them, that was clear.

I’d only spent a few hours in Knights Ferry, but I’d seen enough of the locals to know these people weren’t from there. Their clothing was too sophisticated. No farmer tans. These weren’t rural folk. These were city people.

But which city? Certainly not San Francisco.

Was I even near Knights Ferry anymore? I’d been no more than a thirty-minute hike from the clinic. So how did I end up here?

Was I transported? Had to be. But that opened up a whole new question: Where was here?

The Sierra Nevadas were in one direction. The Bay Area in the other. This place fit in neither.

I turned to Lucian. “Where exactly are we?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“And don’t say Darkside.”

Lucian smiled. “Maybe it’s time you met Father Dark.”

23

Becket dropped the Tahoe into drive and made a U-turn outside the front entrance of Hillside.

As they pulled away, Kang stared out the window, eyes fixed on the brick wall running along the property’s perimeter.

“Does that wall encircle the entire property?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Becket replied, one hand resting on the top of the steering wheel. His fingers tapped out a slow rhythm as he waited for Kang to clue him in on something he hadn’t seen yet.

Instead, Kang pulled out his phone and opened a map app and switched to satellite view. He zoomed in on their location and frowned before smiling.

Becket glanced sideways. “What is it?”

“The entire development is blurred out. Like a military installation. Did you know that?”

Becket blinked. “No. I mean…that’s not unusual, right? People can opt out of Google Street View and all that. Lotta rich folks living in there. Maybe they just want privacy.”

Kang kept scanning the screen. “The road we’re on dead-ends a few miles back, past Hillside. It doesn’t look like anything else is out that way. No other towns.”

“No one goes out there unless they’re trying to, so why does the wall matter?” Becket asked, glancing over at Kang, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’m curious if there’s any other way into Hillside besides the front gate,” Kang said.

Becket shifted in his seat, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “What are you getting at?”

“I want to find a way in.”

“Because…” Becket’s voice trailed off. He glanced over again, brow furrowed this time. “Do you really think Abby’s in there?”

“I think the answers I seek are in there.”

They drove in silence for a few seconds, the tires humming against the asphalt. A fat insect smacked into the windshield with a splat. Becket grimaced and flicked on the wipers. The smear vanished in a single pass.

Becket finally spoke. “Look, I know I’m green, and next to you, I don’t know jack. But explain to me why you think Hillside is the answer. I’m just not seeing it.”

“You admitted the search was a farce, right?”

Becket gave a resigned nod, jaw tightening.

“Okay then. As far as I’m concerned, Agent Kane isn’t lost. She’s been taken,” Kang continued. “That makes this an abduction. If she were anywhere in Knights Ferry, we’d know it by now. You even said yourself the woods are too small to vanish in. Hillside’s the one place that’s private and closed to outsiders.”

Becket exhaled, drumming his fingers now, not tapping. “So what are the next steps?”

“Can you help me find a way in, ideally from a remote location? Somewhere away from that front gate.”

“I can…” Becket said reluctantly. “But we should grab supplies. Flashlights, rope, maybe a⁠—”

“No go. Time is of the essence,” Kang cut in. “Get me to a remote location near the rear of the property now.”

Becket checked the rearview, then spun the Tahoe into a U-turn, heading back toward Hillside. They hadn’t made it a hundred yards when red and blue lights exploded behind them, sirens wailing, closing fast.

Kang turned in his seat.

“Shit,” Becket muttered. “It’s Stacks. What do we do?”

Kang kept his tone even. “Pull over. Let’s see what he wants.”

They rolled to a stop on the road’s shoulder. Stacks was already out of his cruiser, sunglasses on, striding toward them with purpose.

Becket rolled down the window. “Sheriff,” he said. “How can we help you?”

Stacks peered into the car. He looked calm, but the tension in his jaw, the heavy breathing…he was annoyed.

“You can start by explaining why the two of you bailed on the search without saying a word.”

“That’s on me,” Kang said smoothly. “My apologies. I had a hunch I wanted to check out.”

Stacks arched a brow. “Care to share? We’re all on the same team, remember.”

“I thought the search area should expand beyond the woods, west of the clinic. We’ve combed the current area as thoroughly as possible and found nothing.”

Stacks glanced around, clearly not buying it. “And your new lead just happened to take you miles in the opposite direction?”

“I follow my gut. It’s how I work.”

A pause. Then Stacks smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, I need my deputy back at the office. If that’s all right with you.”

Kang nodded. “We’re done here.”

“Deputy,” Stacks said, voice tightening. “We’ll talk more.”

He turned on his heel and walked back to his cruiser.

Becket let out a low breath. “What happened to pulling rank and having me assist you on a federal investigation? I’m about to get fired.”

“No, you’re not.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Stacks doesn’t want to risk exposing himself right now. He needs information, primarily what you and I know. Firing you makes that harder. He’ll bark, but for now, he still thinks he’s in control.”

“I still feel like you just threw me under the bus.”

“I did, and your job is to stay under it for now. Let him vent. Stay calm and take the verbal beating.”

Becket grimaced. “How does me being a punching bag help us?”

“Stacks is pretending to be a team player. I need him to keep pretending. The minute he feels like he’s lost control, this whole thing gets worse. Trust the process.”

Back at the station, Stacks launched into a speech about mobilizing more men and expanding the search. He even agreed with Kang’s suggestion to widen the radius but insisted Kane couldn’t have made it far on foot. Certainly not to where they were.

“She must’ve circled northeast of the clinic,” he said with a straight face, gesturing at a large paper map spread across his desk. “That’s where we should concentrate next.”

Kang nodded and played along, though it made his skin crawl. Everything about Stacks felt calculated. He reminded Kang of the worst kind of lawman: the ones who wear the badge for power, not justice.

Kang made a quiet promise to himself. After he found Abby, he’d dig into Stacks and uncover whatever was going on in Knights Ferry.

“So,” Stacks said, looking up, hands resting on his utility belt, “are we in agreement?”

“How soon can we head back out?” Kang asked.

“Give me a few hours to finalize logistics. In the meantime, I’m asking you to hold tight.”

Kang nodded again.

Stacks turned to Becket. “You stick with me from now on.”

“I need a ride back to the motel,” Kang said to Becket as they walked out of Stacks’s office.

“I’ll grab the keys⁠—”

“Actually,” Stacks called out, appearing at the doorway, “Deputy Appleton can take you.”

Appleton was already approaching, keys spinning on one finger like a carnival trick. Stacks was making sure Becket stayed on his leash.

Kang whispered to Becket, “Play it cool. Take your lumps. I’ll be in touch.”

On the drive to the motel, Appleton kept her eyes on the road, hands at ten and two.

“You ever work with Becket much?” Kang asked.

“Not so much. Since he was brought on, I’ve taken a reduced role in the office, helping Stacks out with admin, fielding calls coming in… I’m on reserve. I’ll be retiring soon. If you’re wondering why.”

“Makes sense. You’re closing in on the finish line.”

Kang studied her profile. She was calm and controlled.

“He’s a good kid,” she offered up. “Green, but smart…a little frustrated with the type of cases we get out here, if you know what I mean.” She chuckled. “Makes sense that he wants to work the Jane Doe investigation.”

“Stacks always this hands-on?”

Appleton didn’t answer right away, most likely weighing whether she should expand or not. “He’s the sheriff.”

Kang got the feeling that last answer was Appleton’s way of saying she’d said all she was willing to say. For the rest of the ride, he sat in the passenger seat, weighing his options.

Abby was gone. Not lost but taken. He was already convinced that Stacks wasn’t just complicit but involved somehow. And if Stacks was bold enough to abduct a federal agent, then he was bold enough to make her disappear for good.

Kang knew that the moment he called it in, the bureau would descend on Knights Ferry with an army. Helicopters. Command posts. SWAT. The works.

But Stacks would see it coming. And if he was truly tied to this, if he was protecting someone or something inside Hillside, then the second he felt the walls closing in, Abby’s life would become leverage. Or worse, collateral.

He was walking a razor’s edge now. He needed to keep Stacks comfortable, keep the show going, and pray Abby would still be alive long enough to find.

Four hours. That’s what he gave himself. Four hours to find her before he pulled the trigger.

24

Becket pushed through the glass door of the motel and spotted Kang near the coffee station. For a second, he almost didn’t recognize him. Kang had ditched the suit for jeans, a flannel shirt, hiking shoes, and a ball cap. He looked less like a federal agent and more like someone about to hit a trailhead.

“Hey, sorry about the delay,” Becket said as he walked in. “It was impossible to get out of that station. Stacks kept his thumb on me. Did you go shopping?” He pointed to the outfit.

“I always keep a change of clothes in the car. Where’s Stacks now?”

“Said he was heading home, but who knows. You didn’t hear from him, did you? About the search?”

“Not a peep. Good thing I’m not relying on him to find Abby.” Kang tipped the last of the coffee back. “Let’s move. We’ve got time to make up.”

“Yeah, about that… I might have to sit this one out. Stacks is all over me. If I go in there with you, it’s not going to look good. I need him to think I’m being obedient. You feel me?”

“Yeah, it’s probably better. I can go in alone.”

Becket drove to a service road that led to an area northwest of Hillside. They’d have to hike to the wall from there.

By the time Becket brought the Tahoe to a stop, the air had cooled, and a light breeze stirred the leaves. Becket grabbed a flashlight from the glove box and led the way.

“He had me riding the desk all afternoon,” Becket vented as they walked. “Even sent Appleton home early and had me cover dispatch. Not a single mention of the search, of course.”

“He’s trying to keep a lid on things,” Kang said, sidestepping a low branch. “That’s either fear or guilt.”

“Or both.” Becket kicked at a rock. “I didn’t sign up for this kind of garbage. I wanted to be a cop who made a difference. All I’m doing now is enabling a cover-up.”

They walked in silence for a bit, flashlight bouncing against the trees, until the perimeter wall came into view. Both men were a little winded.

“You sure about this?” Becket asked. “I’ll be chilling at my car. Call me when you’re back at the wall. I’ll come and get you.”

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be. But if you need to bail, I get it.”

Becket gave Kang a once-over. “You obviously aren’t wearing your shoulder holster. Maybe take this.” He handed him his baton.

Kang pulled up his jeans to reveal an ankle holster.

“All right, I guess you’re covered.”

Becket checked his phone. “Cell signal is strong. They’ve probably got their own cell tower.”

Kang pulled out a folded slip of paper. “If you don’t hear from me in two hours, call this number. Tell them Agent Kane and Agent Kang are in trouble and they need help. That’ll kick off an emergency response.”

“Jesus,” Becket said. “You really think that’s where we’re at?”

“I think my partner vanished. I can’t rule out it happening to me. You’re my contingency plan. Don’t think. Just call. Can I count on you?”

Becket nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Using a nearby tree, Kang hoisted himself up and over the wall with ease. He dropped silently into the woods and moved quickly through the brush until houses came into view. He emerged near a cul-de-sac, straightened his ball cap, and walked like he belonged. A man with a golden retriever gave him a friendly nod. Kang returned it. A golf cart hummed past, the driver barely glancing at him.

He stuck to sidewalks, remembering Maddie’s description of the neighborhood: a web of streets that all led into the downtown core. Soon, suburbia gave way to the town center.

Golf carts lined the curb. String lights glowed overhead. Families dined alfresco, their tables buzzing with chatter. Every detail mattered: the shop signage, the manicured landscaping, even the music coming from hidden outdoor speakers. It all felt familiar. And then it hit him. This place reminded him of Disneyland.

It was perfectly curated.

Kang slipped into a busy ice cream parlor to get a feel for the residents. The shop smelled like waffle cones and strawberries. As he waited in line, a man with a young boy leaned toward him.

“You’re a new face,” the man said.

Kang forced a friendly smile. “Yeah. Thinking about relocating here. Maddie Bright suggested I walk the town, get a feel for it.”

The man nodded approvingly. “She’s the heartbeat of Hillside. You here alone?”

“My wife and daughter got sick right before the trip. She didn’t want to cancel the appointment and insisted I come solo.”

“Smart move. My wife’s pregnant with our second. We’ve been here two years, and we’re not going anywhere.”

“How’s the school system?”

“Best part of the place. My son will be starting preschool soon. We couldn’t be happier.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a consultant,” the man said vaguely, then added, “Most people here work for themselves. It’s kind of a requirement. You can’t really commute out of Hillside, if you know what I mean. Once you’re here, there’s no leaving.” The man chuckled. “Well, we all know it’s best to stay put.”

Kang frowned. “Huh? What do you mean?”

A shadow of regret crossed the man’s face. Clearly Kang had hit something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Right,” Kang said quickly, not wanting to expose himself. “Of course. Who would want to leave paradise, right? I’m guessing all the shops and businesses here are local.”

As he spoke, Kang caught movement from the corner of his eye. A woman at the far end of the counter was watching them. She wasn’t smiling. She turned away as soon as she noticed him noticing.

“They’re all resident owned, and the worker bees live here,” the man said. “Everyone else? Contractors. Remote workers. A few people manage companies on the outside. You need to be fully self-sufficient to make it work.”

Kang nodded. “I get it. Smart design.”

“Well, good luck,” the man said. “Hope we see you around.”

Kang stepped outside with his cone in hand. He stood on the sidewalk, scanning the town as he slowly ate, watching families pass by in content silence. His eyes swept across the manicured storefronts, the ornate streetlamps, the spotless sidewalks.

He licked his ice cream, eyes narrowing slightly. Where are you, Abby?

25

Lucian led the way into an elevator. The strange thing about it? There were no floor numbers lighting up. No display at all. Just up and down buttons. And even those were locked behind a key card reader. We were heading up, I knew that much.

When the doors slid open, we stepped into a short hallway, carpeted in deep red with dark wood-paneled walls that looked like they belonged in an old estate or a vintage nightclub. At the far end: two oversize double doors, adorned with ornate gold trim and swirling designs that could’ve passed for something out of a magician’s lair or maybe a haunted casino.

“Who’s the interior designer?” I cooed. “I love what they did with the place.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re not funny?” Lucian said, clearly unimpressed.

He pushed the doors open in one fell swoop, and I stepped into a room that felt completely out of place. Luxurious. Decadent. Like someone had purposely mashed up Renaissance elegance with a gothic grandeur.

It took a second to take it all in. Dark wood-paneled walls, velvet chairs, ornate vases perched on pedestals. Gilded chandeliers dangled overhead, their warm glow bouncing off oil paintings that looked expensive enough to belong in a museum. Five stairs at the back of the room led up to another level, making the main area slightly sunken. A polished wet bar stretched along the right wall, stocked with crystal glasses and liquor bottles arranged like an exhibit.

It felt like a room meant to impress guests. Or to distract them from asking why there were no windows. That didn’t get past me.

“No clever clapback?” Lucian asked, glancing down at me.

I kept my mouth shut. Honestly, I was taken aback. Maybe even a little impressed.

“Welcome,” a new voice called out from across the room.

I turned toward the far end, where a man stood at the top of the carpeted steps. His arms were open, his smile wide. He was dressed in a black suit, like Lucian’s, but somehow sleeker, more expensive. His dark wavy hair was swept back, not a strand out of place. He appeared in fit shape. Mid-forties, I guessed.

He descended the stairs and walked toward us with smooth, confident strides. He stopped in front of me, hand extended. His fingers were adorned with thick, ornate rings.

“Such a pleasure to meet you, Abby… May I call you Abby?”

“You may.” I shook his hand. His skin was oddly soft. “I take it you’re Father Dark.”

His smile widened, like I’d said something clever. “My name is Ronan Dark, but yes, everyone here calls me Father Dark. You, however, may call me Ronan.”

He turned to Lucian. “Would you be so kind as to prepare refreshments for our guest while we get comfortable?”

Guest. Not prisoner. Interesting word choice.

Ronan led me into a side room. A blend of an office and library, though opulent lair was probably a better fit. The dark-paneled walls continued here, but now they were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with leather-bound volumes. Velvet furnishings filled the space, plush and excessive. Overhead, another chandelier glowed, casting a soft, golden haze. A crackling fireplace flickered in the corner, two chairs angled toward it, as if waiting for conspirators to settle in and trade secrets over a drink.

I wandered toward the shelves, dragging a finger across the spines. “They say if you give a man a book, he’ll read for a day. But if you teach him to write, he’ll scribble some woman’s phone number inside a bathroom stall.”

Ronan chuckled faintly. “And what would you write, if given the chance? Abby was here, but not for long?”

“More like Abby was here, but now she’s gone.” I smiled.

Ronan gestured to a plush chair across from his massive wooden desk, and I sat as he took his seat behind it. And then he just stared at me. Smiling, eyes wide with intrigue.

Was he waiting for me to speak first? A power play, maybe. I didn’t bite. I held his stare, cracked a slow smile, and gave him the same energy right back. Silence didn’t bother me. I could sit here all day.

The moment stretched, and I found myself thinking of something my father once told me. Even if the other person has the clear advantage, don’t ever make the mistake of confirming it for them. There’s no coming back from that.

At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it. But later, I realized my father was a master at mind games. Confidence wasn’t just a shield; it was a weapon. Make the other person doubt themselves, even for a second, and their armor would crack. From that point on, they’d be swimming in a whirlpool of uncertainty.

I kept smiling, staring.

I had to admit, for a villain, Ronan had an absurdly symmetrical face. He’d clearly won the DNA lottery. He had the kind of looks that made people trust him without question. A chiseled jaw, flawless skin, a charming smile, and thick dark hair that had never met a bad day.

But it was his eyes that caught my attention. Pale gray. Nearly colorless.

That gaze pinned me back in my chair, a steady hand pressing. The corner of his smile lifted a little higher. He knew exactly what he was doing. Too bad I wasn’t the type of woman who trips over herself when an attractive man walks into a room.

We sat quietly, the tension thickening with every second.

Finally, Lucian reappeared, carrying a silver tray with three flutes.

Ronan finally spoke. “Ah, champagne.”

Lucian handed me a glass first, like I was a real guest. Then Ronan. Then he took the last one and sat beside me, cool and poised like this was just another day at the office.

I hesitated. Didn’t take a sip right away.

Ronan noticed instantly. His smile widened as he raised his glass and took a slow, deliberate sip. His eyes flicked to Lucian, a silent cue. Lucian followed suit, calm as ever.

Mine could still be poisoned, of course. But if they wanted me dead, I figured they’d had plenty of chances.

I lifted the flute to my lips and held it there, the cool rim pressing against my skin. Across the table, Ronan leaned in, elbows resting, his eyes fixed on me like I was about to perform a magic trick. I didn’t have to look at Lucian. I could feel his stare, sharp like a blade pressing against my cheek, waiting for me to flinch.

I would not be rattled so easily. I took a sip.

Ronan leaned back, finally relaxing into his chair.

“You just let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, didn’t you?” I said.

He smiled. “How observant.”

I figured we could either keep carrying on as if this were some eerie wine-and-cheese social, or I could flip the script.

“I appreciate the hospitality,” I said. “But let’s cut to the chase. Why am I here?”

“Business from the start,” Ronan said admiringly. “Though I was hoping we’d linger on pleasantries a bit longer.”

“You’re holding me hostage⁠—”

“Guest,” he interrupted smoothly. “You’re a guest.”

I glanced at Lucian. He sat silently, still as stone, the picture of obedience.

“Is this about Jane Doe?” I asked.

A crinkle formed on Ronan’s brow.

“The woman I was chasing through the woods before one of your men clocked me in the head,” I clarified. “I assume he was one of yours.”

“Yes, well,” he said with a polite nod, “that was unfortunate. Not our intention. We simply needed Evie back where she belongs.”

“So, this is just a big misunderstanding,” I said, gesturing vaguely with my glass.

“You could say that,” he replied.

“I could,” I echoed. “And if I’m truly a guest, I assume I’m free to go whenever I want. Right?”

“Of course,” he said before taking a slow sip. “Though I can’t imagine why you’d want to leave. We were just getting acquainted.”

26

Kang had told Becket if he needed to leave, then leave. He didn’t see the point in sitting in his car in the middle of nowhere when he could relax back at home a short distance away.

Becket fired up the Tahoe and drove down the service road, dust kicking up behind him. It didn’t take long before the vehicle skidded to a stop outside his home. He jumped out, walking toward his front door, focused. He didn’t notice the figure sitting in the rocking chair on his front porch until she spoke.

“What’s the hurry?”

Becket flinched. “Jesus, Appleton.” He took a nervous step back. “You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing out here sitting in the dark?”

“Waiting on you,” she said as she stood, casting a glance across his yard. “Let’s talk inside.”

Once inside, Appleton insisted they keep the lights off. Becket didn’t have the energy to argue. They sat in the dark, the glow of moonlight from the front window painting her profile pale blue.

“You wanna tell me why you’re suddenly Ms. Cloak and Dagger?” Becket asked, leaning forward, hands clasped.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “You haven’t been yourself lately, ever since you picked up that woman.”

“Oh, now you’re worried?”

“Don’t piss me off, Becket.” Her voice dropped, steely. “Right now, I’m your only friend in the department. Don’t think I don’t see what’s going on.”

He straightened. “What are you hearing? Did Stacks say something?”

“He didn’t have to.” She shook her head. “He’s done with you. You’re walking a tightrope, and you’re about one bad decision from getting pushed off. You get written up this way, it follows you. You know how hard it is to get another job with the sheriff’s department once you’ve been labeled a problem.”

She leaned in. “I’m here as a friend. I’m asking you to stop whatever it is you’re doing.”

Becket didn’t answer right away. He watched her in the soft glow of the window, trying to decide if he could trust her or if she had an ulterior motive. Peel was a known suck-up, always ready to do Stacks’s dirty work. But Appleton? She’d always been…Switzerland.

And right now, he needed an ally just like Switzerland.

“Something’s wrong,” he said quietly. “Really wrong.”

He told her everything. How the search was a joke, how no one seemed to care that Jane Doe was missing, too, how Stacks had stonewalled every attempt to investigate.

“Stacks lied to Kang this afternoon,” Becket said. “Told him there was a second search team going out. You hear anything about that?”

Appleton shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

Becket leaned in, voice low. “An FBI agent goes missing, and the sheriff puts on a half-assed dog and pony show? That’s not incompetence. That’s a cover-up.”

Appleton didn’t respond right away. Just listened.

“Stacks isn’t just stonewalling. He’s running interference. And if he’s doing that with a federal agent missing—” Becket shrugged. “Then whatever this is, it’s deeper than it looks.”

Appleton tilted her head. “So why hasn’t Kang called it in? He has a phone.”

“Because he believes Stacks is heavily involved. And if he pushes too soon, he may not find her at all.”

Appleton let out a slow breath. “You really think Stacks would go that far?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. What’s he really hiding? You’d tell me if you knew something, right?”

“This is the first I’ve heard of this claim.”

“You think I’m wrong?”

Appleton frowned. “Even if I did, are you saying Kang’s risking his partner’s life on a hunch?”

“Yeah, it sounds bad when you say it like that. But I think he’s making the right call for now. He’s not exactly green.”

She studied him for a long beat. “You barely know Agent Kang. What’s your stake in this? Why risk your job?”

Becket looked her in the eye. “Talking to Kang opened my eyes. I’ve been under Stacks’s thumb without even realizing it. If something’s coming, I’d rather be prepared. Don’t you want to cover your ass too?”

“Hell, yes! I’m too close to retirement. If Stacks is pretending Jane Doe never existed and a missing FBI agent doesn’t matter, then shit is messed up. If Kang keeps digging, he’s bound to find something. I’m not interested in being caught up in any of it.”

Becket gave a nod and slapped his thigh. “Knew you were smart.”

She gave him a look. “What exactly are you planning?”

“I’m sticking with Kang. We find his partner, then figure out what Stacks is hiding. It’s all connected.”

“Where is Agent Kang, anyway?”

Becket hesitated.

“Don’t clam up now,” she said. “You’ve already opened your big mouth.”

“He’s poking around Hillside. It’s the only place around here we know nothing about. That makes it a solid lead, his only lead.” He leaned forward. “Can I count on your help?”

“My help?” Appleton shifted, visibly uneasy.

“Look, I get it. You’re months away from retirement with a full pension. No one wants to screw that up. But I’m not asking you to charge in with me. I just need eyes and ears. Someone close to Stacks. Someone he trusts. That’s you. If he says or does anything off, I need to know.”

She didn’t answer.

“And when this thing blows up, and it will, I promise you won’t be one of the casualties. I’ll protect you.”

Appleton gave him a long look. “Can you guarantee that?”

“No,” Becket said. “But I’m betting the FBI will come out on the winning side.”

27

The soft whir of the golf cart was the only sound cutting through the stillness of Hillside’s suburbs. The streets had quieted down as most of the residents were tucked in for the night. Everyone knew the rules: As night settled in, the more you were expected to stay indoors, unless you had a dog.

Wendel Newport eased the cart along, making his nightly rounds. Routine. A blend of surveillance and a not-so-subtle show of force. He stopped at each checkpoint that dotted the neighborhood. These guards were stationed to monitor late-night dog walkers, the occasional jogger with clearance, and anyone with an excuse to be outside.

Most posts had two guards. But the one up ahead, a small roundabout, was staffed by four. Newport brought the cart to a stop and stepped out.

His men straightened into formation the moment they saw him—chins up, eyes forward, arms locked stiff at their sides.

He strolled past them slowly, inspecting each one. When he reached the last guard, he adjusted the flap of the man’s front pocket with two fingers. “At ease,” he muttered, satisfied.

As Hillside’s head of security, Newport didn’t wear a uniform like the others. He didn’t need to. Everyone in Hillside knew who he was and who he answered to. That knowledge alone kept most people in line.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Two joggers were approaching, a man and a woman. He tracked them as they came closer. He could practically feel the “oh shit” moment ripple through them when they recognized him.

Residents knew there was always a checkpoint here. What they didn’t expect was him to be there.

Newport relished the way his presence could short-circuit people’s nerves. The jogger gave him a forced smile; the woman offered an awkward wave. He said nothing. Just kept staring. Held it long enough to make them wonder if they’d done something wrong.

Only at the last second did he give a small, polite nod.

He loved being a prick.

One of his men halted the couple, and after a few quiet words, he allowed them to continue.

Newport glanced at his watch. It was time. He left the checkpoint and drove toward Hillside’s front entrance. Parked just outside the gate, on the opposite side of the road, was Stacks’s Interceptor. Inside, the sheriff sat alone, the ember of his cigarette glowing like a warning light.

Newport passed through the wicket gate and climbed into the passenger seat. The moment the door shut, Stacks started talking.

“I don’t need to tell you how fucked up this is.”

“Fucked up for who?”

Stacks turned, eyes narrowed. “You might be a private community, but I’m still the law around here. Don’t forget that.”

Newport smirked. “If you came here to compare dick sizes, we both know who’s swinging bigger.”

Stacks let the insult slide, barely. “I came because this situation with the FBI agent is spiraling. But it doesn’t have to explode in our faces. We can still salvage it.”

“Got a genie bottle you haven’t told me about?”

“I don’t need one. The worst-case scenario, we find her in the woods. Dead. Make it look like she tripped. Broke her neck. Maybe let a bear chew on her a bit for realism. It’s clean and believable. You hand her over, and I’ll make sure the report reads exactly the way we want.”

“You think the feds will buy that?”

“They’ll do their job. There’ll be heat on this town, for sure, but they’ll close the case once it looks like a tragic accident. Then we all go back to business as usual.”

Newport leaned back, silent, as he pondered Stacks’s plan.

“Where’s Maddie? I figured she’d be part of this chat.”

“I’m speaking for Maddie,” he said flatly.

Stacks didn’t hide his skepticism. “You’re telling me you can make this call without her? Are you sure?”

“You let me worry about Maddie.”

Stacks stared a second longer, then looked away. “Fine. Ball’s in your court now. Screw this up and I’ll make sure you go down with the rest of us.”

Newport climbed out and watched the Interceptor disappear down the road before heading back to his cart, his expression unreadable.

A short drive later, he arrived at the recreation center. The building was dark except for one of the tinted second-floor windows. Maddie’s office still glowed.

He climbed the stairs and found her behind her desk, sipping bourbon from a rocks glass and staring at her phone with a lazy smile.

“I can’t get enough of these videos,” she said without looking up. “This one’s a golden retriever calling her owner at work to complain that it’s 5:02 and dinner was supposed to be at five. So damn funny.”

Newport poured himself a glass of bourbon, two fingers’ worth, and downed it in one go. He came up behind Maddie and started massaging her shoulders while she continued to scroll through videos. She let out a soft moan, encouraging Newport to lean down and pepper her neck with kisses.

“What’s got into you?” Maddie cooed.

“Thinking of being inside of you.”

“Wait until we get back to my place. You know how I feel about fucking in my office.”

Newport pulled back a bit so he could look into her eyes. “You still think there’s a secret camera in here somewhere? My guys swept the place a half a dozen times. If there were one, we’d have found it. Now about some sugar?”

His hands cupped her breasts, kneading them gently. Maddie moaned louder, setting her phone down as his hand worked its way inside her blouse, then slipped beneath her bra. It looked like Newport was about to sweep the desk clear and take her right then and there until she suddenly grabbed his hand.

“We can’t. Not here.” She pulled his hand out of her shirt and straightened up in her chair.

“You let me go down on you two nights ago. It was like a river between your legs. You were loud as hell too.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t freaking out. I’m sorry, but I need to be careful.” She patted the corner of her desk, and Newport plopped down on it.

“So, what did Stacks want?” she asked.

“He wants the FBI agent. He’s got a plan to make the problem go away.”

“Does he now?” Maddie’s voice lost its amusement. “Suddenly he’s the mastermind who can sweep a federal agent under the rug?”

“He ran it by me. It’s a solid plan. I think it could work, but we need to act fast.”

“Oh, and now you’re the one who decides what’ll work?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve heard the plan. It tracks. She gets injured while lost in the woods, she’s immobile, and what luck, a fucking bear happens by and eats her. No one is going to question it. What are you worried about?”

“You think this is about Stacks?” Maddie said, amused. “No, Wendel. I’m talking about him.”

“Let me talk to him. I’m not threatened.”

Maddie stared at Newport for a beat, her expression cooling, before swirling her bourbon in the glass. “If I thought you had a chance, I’d let you.”

Newport scoffed, shaking his head. But something in her eyes made him pause and shift slightly straighter on the edge of the desk.

“You have no idea what he’s like,” she said, her voice low now. “Even I tread lightly around him.”

“He’s one man,” Newport said, puffing his chest slightly.

Maddie laughed again, softer this time. “Look, Wendel. I like you. You’re useful. But don’t pretend you’re more capable than you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he’s out of your league.”

Newport’s jaw tensed. “How powerful can he be with a name like Father?”

“Trust me,” she said, lifting her glass to her lips, “Ronan’s not someone you want to be on the wrong side of.”

28

After Appleton left, Becket took a shower and then heated up leftovers in the microwave. Time flew while he ate and watched TV. By the time he remembered to check his watch, he realized he hadn’t heard a peep from Kang. He grabbed his car keys and headed out.

During his drive, Kang’s voice echoed in his head: If you don’t hear from me, call this number.

Becket clearly remembered telling Kang to check in as well. Why hadn’t he?

Becket’s car skidded to a stop in the dirt. He jumped out, flashlight in hand, and plunged into the woods.

His breath was loud in the silence, gear jangling with every step. He sidestepped tree limbs, vaulted over exposed roots, dodged stones jutting from the earth. He moved fast.

When he reached the wall, there was no sign of Kang. The decision to call was made.

Becket yanked out his phone to call as he reached into his back pocket for the paper Kang had given him. He swished his fingers around but didn’t feel it. His stomach sank.

He quickly checked the other. Empty.

A low curse slipped out. He checked his phone. No signal. Earlier today the bars had been strong. Now, nothing. Becket stood frozen for a second.

Becket began to freak. He needed that number. He needed the FBI to show up. He began retracing his steps, searching for the piece of paper until he reached his car empty handed.

Had it fallen out in the car? Was it sitting on the seat? Becket was positive he’d had it when he left home. Ninety-nine point nine percent sure.

He yanked the driver’s side door open and hit the seat with his flashlight beam. It was empty.

The next few minutes were pure chaos as he tore the car apart, ripping through the glove box, patting down the floorboards, flipping cushions.

Nothing.

Determined to make it right, Becket took off back toward the wall. He scaled the tree like he’d seen Kang do, crawled out along the branch, and straddled the top of the perimeter. Flashlight off now. He scanned the wall in both directions, eyes locked on the shadows.

No movement.

He dropped down, a soft landing before moving forward.

The woods opened into a backyard. He slipped between two homes and popped out onto a cul-de-sac. The street was empty and every house dark, from what he could tell as he hurried along the sidewalk.

Not a single porch light. No late-night TV glow or light from an upstairs window.

Up ahead, he spotted the rec center, and he remembered Maddie’s office was there and figured Kang might have gone there.

The building was dark, and there was no sign of Kang. He pressed his face against the glass door to look inside. There was some accent lighting, but no Kang.

Laughter in the distance caught his attention, and a security golf cart appeared, patrolling the parking lot. Becket ducked into the shadows and then followed it at a distance until it stopped in front of a small one-story building.

It looked like the security headquarters. A few tinted windows, nothing fancy. There were more guards milling outside. Everyone seemed to be moving in a hurry. Something was up.

He crouched behind a bush as more men appeared, this time carrying rifles.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over his mouth and his body locked.

A whisper hit his ear: “You really need to work on your situational awareness.”

Kang!

He released his grip, eyes focused on the guards.

“Did you make the call?” Kang asked.

“I fucked up. I lost the number. I was going to call you, but I had no service by the wall, so I came looking for you.”

“There’s no service in here either,” Kang said.

Becket checked his phone. “I don’t understand. You were with me when I checked the signal strength earlier.”

“I think they’re using a jammer. They’re in lockdown mode.”

“Lockdown mode? Who are⁠—”

Kang shoved Becket down just as a golf cart drove past their location. It stopped in front of the building, and Maddie stepped out. Newport was driving.

She crossed her arms; her posture remained stiff. Newport barked orders, gesturing sharply. Whatever they were prepping for, they weren’t messing around. Suddenly, all the armed men jumped into carts and scattered.

“I don’t get it,” Becket said. “What could possibly be the threat here?”

Kang kept his eyes on the chaos. “Us.”

29

My so-called meet-and-greet with Ronan didn’t deliver the answers I needed, just more confusion. So far, nothing about this place was what I expected. Strangest of all, though, was Ronan himself. He came off like a cross between a high-society vampire and a magician performing at the Magic Castle in Los Angeles.

The only thing that made sense, if you could call it that, was that I held some kind of value. Maybe it was my FBI status. Maybe it was because I was a petite woman. But I didn’t think they had planned for me specifically. More like a happy accident. They’d wanted Jane Doe back, and I just happened to be in the way.

Speaking of Jane Doe…Evie. Where was she? Was she alive? Dead? Being treated the same way as I was or worse? My money was on the latter. Why else would she have tried to escape this place?

That was an easy question to answer. She must’ve figured out the secrets. A place like this had to have plenty. Jane Doe had learned them and was able to break free, and Ronan freaked that she would expose whatever was really happening here. Were there others like her, waiting for their chance to escape?

I figured Lucian was taking me back to my holding cell. I tried engaging him in more conversation, but he kept his mouth shut and eyes forward. No fun this time around.

Because all the hallways looked identical, it was difficult to determine whether we were retracing our steps. We came to a stop in front of one of the many identical doors.

“What? No tour through the atrium this time?” I said, staring at Lucian.

He opened a door and motioned for me to step inside. “Your new accommodations.”

I stood surprised in the entryway. The room resembled a studio flat. A single bed. A small dresser, which was pointless, since I had no clothes to store. A chair and small table with a lamp. No windows. There was a separate bathroom, and from where I stood, I could see fresh towels hanging neatly on a rack.

“There’s a small set of travel toiletries in the bathroom,” Lucian said. “Should be enough for now.”

His gaze swept over me.

“A bath is much needed.”

I sat down on the bed and gave it a bounce. “Comfy,” I said.

My eyes swept the room. It had all the charm of a dorm room at a university. I couldn’t help but wonder, Did everyone get rooms like this? “Do the families have bigger spaces?” I asked.

Lucian didn’t answer. His patience battery was clearly running on fumes.

“Since it’s obvious I’m not going anywhere right now, maybe you could tell me how long I’ll be here. Or, better yet, why I’m even being kept here. I thought Ronan would expand on that, but sadly, he didn’t. I’m pretty sure we’ve never met, so unless I cut you off in traffic, revenge seems unlikely.”

“It’s Father Dark’s will that you remain a guest.”

“Father Dark. Hmm. You actually call him that?” I tilted my head. “Feels like you’d be on a first-name basis.”

Lucian let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s Ronan’s will that you remain a guest. Better?”

“Any chance I can get my phone back?”

Lucian just smiled and walked out, shutting the door behind him. I waited for the click of a lock, but it never came.

Huh.

I walked over to the door. There was a simple lock on it, one I controlled. I turned the knob and pulled the door open without resistance.

“I guess I really am a guest,” I muttered, stepping into the hall.

It was empty. No Lucian. No guards. Just a long, quiet corridor with cameras watching. Had they vanished into one of the other rooms?

I shut the door and headed for the bathroom, deciding to take Lucian’s advice.

The hot shower did wonders. My muscles loosened. My head cleared. And when I stepped out, towel wrapped around me, I felt something I hadn’t felt in hours. Focused.

Refreshed and clear headed, I was ready to figure out an escape.

Changing back into my old clothes wasn’t ideal, but I had no other option. Since I wasn’t technically confined to my room, I decided to poke around, get a feel for Ronan’s little sanctuary.

Outside, I was tempted to start checking the doorknobs just to see if they were locked or where they led. Unless Lucian and his pals had sprinted off like track stars, I couldn’t figure out how they’d vanished so fast.

I walked slowly down the hall, one door at a time, pausing to listen. Hoping for any sign that I wasn’t the only one here. Then, without warning, one of the doors swung open, and a man barreled right into me. I stumbled back a step.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t see you.”

I caught a glimpse into his unit before he shut the door behind him. It looked like a normal apartment. Definitely bigger.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he said. “Are you new to Darkside?”

“I am,” I said, deciding to play along. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Well, I’m sure you already know this is Tower Four. There are four towers total. It can feel like block housing at first, but eventually you realize it’s just a cozy community.”

Again, I was surprised. He looked completely normal and nothing like a guy being held against his will.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“My family and I have been here about a year and a half.”

“A year and a half?” My voice jumped an octave.

He raised an eyebrow.

I composed myself. “Sorry, it’s just that I thought everyone here was new.”

His smile returned. “No, no. Some have been here much longer than us.” He extended a hand. “I’m Finn.”

“Abby. Nice to meet you, Finn.”

Just then, the door behind him cracked open, and a little girl peeked out, giggling.

“This is my youngest, Carrie. She’s five.”

She ducked behind his leg, watching me curiously.

“Go help Mommy, okay?” he said gently, ushering her back inside and closing the door behind her.

Everything about their interaction felt normal. Friendly dad, curious child, cozy apartment. Were Finn and his family really living here by choice? Both of them looked healthy…his daughter had all her fingers. How were they different from Jane Doe?

“I’m heading to the commissary. Have you been there yet?”

“I haven’t, but I’d love to tag along if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” He motioned for me to follow, and we started down the hall.

“How many kids do you have?” Finn asked casually.

“None. It’s just me.”

“Single?”

“That’s right.”

“When we first got here, it was strictly families. Lately they’ve been letting in couples who were looking to start a family. A few singles have trickled in over the last month. You’re maybe the third I’ve seen.”

“Finn, you moved your family here?”

“Yeah. Hasn’t everybody?”

He gave me another strange look. I had to remind myself that I was here by choice. Not abducted.

“I was under the impression it was more singles,” I said, moving on. “Maybe the sales team got different memos.”

Finn laughed. “It’s a great setup. My wife and I couldn’t pass it up. There was an adjustment period at first.” He glanced down at me, raising his brows. “I take it you haven’t been through orientation yet.”

“I haven’t, but I’m looking forward to it.”

I was dying to pepper him with questions. He was the first person I’d met here who didn’t speak in riddles. I wanted to know where these people were from. How they’d found this place. If they were free to leave. And why, out of all the people I’d seen so far, not a single one of them looked over the age of forty.

“Once you go through orientation, all your questions will be answered.”

We entered a stairwell and climbed one floor to another identical hallway. A short walk later, it opened into a cozy public space, more like a lounge. Sofas and chairs were arranged in clusters, with people chatting over coffee and a few playing cards. It gave off senior housing vibes: communal, quiet, and calm.

Finn pointed ahead. “That’s the commissary. There’s one on every few floors. It’s where you pick up the essentials. The main one is better stocked but farther away. This one’s faster, for daily stuff.”

A woman sat behind the caged window. She looked early thirties, soft around the edges, her brown hair pulled back without much thought. No makeup. No smile. Just the energy of someone doing a job they had very little interest in.

He stepped up to the caged window and gave the woman behind the counter his name and a number. She tapped his information into a tablet before disappearing into the back, returning with two cardboard boxes of dried goods.

“These are the last ones,” she said flatly.

“Wow, that went by fast,” Finn said, grabbing one of the boxes.

“I’ve got the other,” I said, lifting it.

Inside: spaghetti, cereal, crackers, cookies. All private label. Darkside linguine. Darkside wheat crackers. Even the coffee beans were branded Darkside. Nothing familiar. Nothing comforting.

As we headed back toward his apartment, I asked, “What did she mean by ‘last one’? Is there a food shortage?”

“No. I just had enough credit to last three months, that’s all. We managed to stretch it out an extra two weeks with some creative cooking.”

Credit? Hmmm.

“What do you do for work, Finn?”

“Work?” He laughed. “I don’t. That’s the best part of Darkside. Nobody here works.”

“So how do people afford food, services…you know, the everyday stuff?”

“We barter.” He smiled like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Man, they really need to get you into orientation.”

We stopped outside his apartment. “Thanks for helping carry these.”

I stacked my box on top of his. Just then, the door opened.

A woman stood in the doorway with pale, sunken cheeks, favoring one leg. She looked nothing like Finn or the cheerful little girl from earlier. She looked more like Jane Doe.

“This is my wife, Sophia,” Finn said. “This is Abby. She’s new here.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I offered.

Sophia gave me a weak smile. “You’ll love it here.”

She took one of the boxes and disappeared back inside. “I need to get dinner started,” she called out. “The children are hungry and need baths.”

The door nearly closed behind her.

Finn turned to me. “Gotta pull my weight in the parenting department.”

“I don’t want to keep you. Thanks for the tour.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you around. And remember, here in Darkside, you only get what you’re willing to give.”

Then he shut the door, and I was left in the hallway, more confused than ever.

30

Kang and Becket dove into the brush, flattening themselves against the dirt just as a golf cart passed, headlights slicing through the trees. Twigs cracked beneath them, the undergrowth scraping their arms and faces. The scent of pine and damp soil clogged Kang’s nose. Sweat rolled down his temple, stinging a small cut.

“That was close,” Becket said, breathless, his eyes darting. “How the hell did they figure out we were here?”

“I don’t know, but if I’m right, Hillside’s heading into lockdown.” Kang’s voice was low, measured. “We need to get word to my office. Can you make it back to the wall on your own?”

Becket hesitated. “Wait, are you seriously thinking of splitting up again?”

“Both of us can’t be trapped inside here. One of us needs to be on the outside in case all hell breaks loose. It’s the smartest option. Plus, I’m totally convinced Abby is somewhere inside Hillside Estates. And from the look of those armed men, there’s a very good chance she’s in a lot of trouble.”

Kang checked his phone. He still had no service. “Give me your phone.” Kang punched a phone number into Becket’s phone. “As soon as you get out and have cell service, call this number. Don’t wait. And for God’s sake, don’t lose your damn phone. Tell them two FBI agents are in distress. They’ll know how to proceed and give you instructions.”

Becket looked at him, his voice tight. “Are you sure about this? You’re FBI. I’m just a deputy. What are they going to do to me? I think you should be the one outside, organizing.”

Kang hesitated, then looked Becket dead in the eye. “If they catch you, they’ll kill you. They’ll think twice about killing me.”

“Kill for trespassing? What makes you think that?” Becket swatted a bug off his face.

“They brought assault rifles. That’s not crowd control,” Kang said.

Before Becket could respond, a voice boomed over a megaphone, cutting through the night: “You can’t hide for long. We’ll find you!”

Becket flinched. “Shit. They totally know we’re here.”

“I’m counting on you to get to that wall,” Kang said.

“But these guys are everywhere.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll draw their attention.”

Becket stared at him. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter. When I move, you run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Do whatever it takes to get out. Got it?”

Becket nodded, jaw tight. “See you on the other side.”

They split. Becket sprinting toward the woods, Kang darting in the opposite direction, weaving through low brush and trees.

Kang kept his head down, counting steps, tracking shadows. If Becket made it, they’d have a chance. If not⁠—

Suddenly a burst of gunfire rang out in the distance. It didn’t sound like warning shots. Someone was unloading an entire clip.

Kang dropped flat, heart thudding. His mind raced. Had they seen Becket? Or was it meant for him?

Either way, it didn’t matter. He had to keep moving. Abby was counting on him.

31

I reached my room and paused with my hand on the doorknob. What was I going to do, sit around and wait? I had free will, for now. There was no telling how long that would last. I turned and headed back down the hall toward the commissary.

The people I saw earlier conversing and playing cards had disappeared. No one was relaxing in the public space anymore. Was there a time limit?

The same woman was behind the counter, staring into space. She reminded me of someone who worked in a high school cafeteria. Pleasant enough, but with the kind of face that said Don’t push your luck.

“Hi,” I said. “I was just here not long ago. I was wondering if⁠—”

“Order number,” she said, cutting me off without breaking her daydream.

“I don’t have one.”

Her gaze finally landed on me. “No order number, no service. You know the rules.”

“I’m actually new here and am still figuring things out.”

She softened slightly, a flicker of empathy surfacing. “You should’ve learned everything in orientation. Have you gone through that yet?”

“No, not yet.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “All will be answered then.”

“Do you live here too? Or are you just a worker?”

Her brow furrowed like I’d asked the dumbest question ever. “Of course I live here. Everyone does.”

“So, the employees all live on-site?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” she said, as if there was no other possibility.

“Just asking. Like I said, I’m new.” I pointed both thumbs at my chest and smiled.

She gave me a forgiving look. “I’m down that hallway.” She pointed. “Everyone who works in this commissary—there are four of us—lives on a floor in this tower.”

“How many floors?”

“Seven per tower. There are four towers total. But you’ll need a pass to move between them.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ll learn all of this in orientation.”

Unsure of what to do next, I lingered.

“Are you enjoying your room?” she asked, much more pleasant this time around. I might have broken through with her.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s cozy.”

She smiled again. “I know, it’s small, but you’ll learn to love it.”

Before I could press further, another resident approached the counter. A woman clutching a folded piece of paper. Her face wasn’t gaunt like Finn’s wife, but something about her posture gave me pause. I stepped aside, and the woman quietly gave her name and order number.

The hallway I came from jutted straight out from the commissary, but another curved off in both directions. I figured I’d explore that and headed right, expecting it to loop back around.

The corridor was marked by the same endless rows of closed doors. No signage. No labels. I wondered how many people accidentally ended up going into the wrong room.

Instead of looping around, the hall dead-ended at a set of double doors. An electronic lock blinked red, but I tried the handles anyway. Nothing.

Frustrated, I turned around, my hands resting on my hips. How was I going to find my way out of this building? An even better question was, How would Kang find me in this maze? Maybe that was why Lucian hadn’t locked me in my room. I was a prisoner in a building, not a room.

It didn’t matter; I was sure by now Kang had discovered the tall building standing out in the middle of the woods. Surely when he didn’t find me near the clinic, he enlarged his search area.

As for timing, I didn’t think I’d been missing for that long. My internal clock was telling me a day had passed. Enough time for Kang to worry. I assumed if I was still a no-show by the end of the day, he’d call in backup.

For a brief moment, I wondered if he had in fact found the building and made it inside but was now trapped, wandering the maze of corridors. That would suck.

One by one, I checked every doorknob I passed. I didn’t care if I intruded on someone’s dinnertime or barged in on a spicy moment. My patience was toast. And I was tired of playing games. But every knob I turned was locked. Until one wasn’t.

It opened into another hallway. It was unmarked and indistinguishable from the others. There had to be a similar door near my room to explain Lucian’s vanishing act.

This hall looked like something out of a hotel’s back of house. A maintenance corridor designed to keep workers out of sight. The cinder block walls were exposed, with black pipes and electrical wires snaking along the ceiling. The floor was polished concrete.

The air was noticeably colder and damp. A faint chemical sting hit my nose: pine disinfectant. Water dripped steadily ahead, pooling on the floor. I stepped around it and passed a row of empty rolling carts, the kind housekeeping used for linens. Nearby, several open trash bins sat waiting. Each one was clearly marked Biohazard – Medical Waste.

Is this a hospital?

The question barely settled before I heard soft moaning ahead.

That’s human. Definitely human.

Instinctively, my hand dropped to my hip, where my service weapon should’ve been.

Crap!

That and my phone were still with Lucian. I slowed my steps, breath shallow, as I crept forward. The moaning grew clearer as I neared an open doorway. I paused, then leaned forward and peeked inside.

What I saw stopped me cold.

Gurneys. About seven of them. Each one held a corpse, limbs stiff, skin pale. They looked like discarded mannequins, but I’d been in enough morgues to know the real thing. Some were neatly covered, others barely draped as if someone had been interrupted mid-process. The air reeked of bleach, but underneath, I caught a sharper scent. Death.

I moved to the gurney nearest me. A man lay there, sheet pulled up to his neck. He was definitely dead. But why wasn’t he in a refrigerated unit?

I pulled back the sheet and instantly recoiled. A jagged incision ran straight down his chest. This wasn’t a postmortem. I’d seen Y incisions. This was a hack job.

I turned to the gurney beside him. A woman had a stitched-up wound across her abdomen. The next body had deep uneven slices across the torso. Another, a crude cut from sternum to navel, hastily stapled shut.

It wasn’t consistent. It wasn’t clean. But it was systematic.

A low, ragged moan pulled my attention to the back of the room. I turned and froze. A naked woman was slumped in the corner, her body limp and slightly trembling. She was alive, but barely. Judging by the mess on the sheets and gurney next to her, she’d climbed off it on her own. I stepped closer, my heart pounding.

Jane Doe.

And then I saw her face. Something was wrong.

Her eyes were gone.

No lids. Just raw, empty sockets ringed with crusted blood. I staggered back, bile rising in my throat. I thought I’d seen it all, but that? It hit me hard.

She was the only one with a plastic ID bracelet on her wrist. A quick look confirmed her name was Evie Blue.

“Evie,” I said softly, kneeling beside her. “Can you hear me?”

Another moan escaped from her lips. Her head shifted slightly toward my voice, and her hand twitched.

Suddenly she reached out and grabbed my wrist. I gasped, jerking slightly, but stopped. She wasn’t attacking me but searching blindly. Her grip was weak but desperate.

I let her hold on as I leaned in. “What is it, Evie? Tell me.”

Her lips barely moved, and the words were no more than breath. “DarkBright.”

Footsteps echoed behind me, then stopped. The hairs on my neck lifted. I wasn’t alone. I looked back over my shoulder.

Ronan stood there, flanked by two armed guards. He took in the scene with a disappointed sigh.

“Well,” he said, his voice smooth as ever. “This is awkward. I was hoping you’d make it to orientation before this part.”

He smiled at me.

“Now do you understand why I can’t let you leave?”

32

“You’re harvesting organs” I moved toward Ronan.

“Harvesting?” Ronan chuckled. “Such a crass word. I prefer redistribution.”

One of the guards stepped in front of me, cutting off my path. He grabbed my arm. I yanked free. The second moved in fast, catching me from the side. I twisted, trying to pull away, but they boxed me in, steering me back toward the hallway. I kept resisting, yanking and shoving. I tried planting my feet, but they forced me out of the room.

“That’s enough,” Ronan said, like he was breaking up a scuffle at a country club. “We’re not barbarians.” Then to me, with a faint smile: “Apologies, Abby. They can be a little too committed to the job sometimes.” He smoothed the cuff of his sleeve like it was just another evening. “I do hope you’ll forgive the enthusiasm.”

Each guard took an arm and started walking. Ronan was already striding ahead, back straight and chin high, like he hadn’t just walked out of a room full of corpses.

“Redistribution?” I snapped. “You think rebranding it makes it less monstrous? I’m not fooled.”

“Of course not… You’re one of the bureau’s top investigators, if I’m not mistaken?” He looked back over his shoulder at me with a mischievous smile. “I know all about the famous Abby Kane. You’ve put a number of high-profile cases to bed.”

“Is that why you’re keeping me here? Am I a trophy for you to show off?”

“Let’s be clear about one thing, Agent Kane. You’re not here because of anything you did in your professional capacity. I’m just pointing out a line item on your résumé. Chance brought you here to me. And I am allowing this visit to continue, probably longer than necessary.”

“Are you sure this isn’t you wanting to show off how smart you are, to brag about what you’re doing here right under law enforcement’s nose? I’ll tell you a little something we like to say at the bureau. If you’re not on our radar, you’re insignificant.”

Ronan spun around so fast one of the guards nearly bumped into him. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes blazing. The air around him felt hotter, like he could combust from sheer rage.

“Insignificant?” His voice dropped into something colder. “You’re standing in my presence, alive, only because I allow it.” He took a step closer. “You think I brought you here to boast? To wave my brilliance in your face?”

He leaned in, eyes like steel.

“I could run this operation for decades under your bureau’s nose. Not because I’m insignificant, Agent Kane. But because I. Am. That. Good.”

I didn’t blink. Not a twitch. Not even a breath. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he rattled me.

He was already too close. I could see the fine lines around his eyes, the flawless skin, feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. His cologne lingered in the air between us, intimate in a way that made me want to hurl.

This was evil, inches from my face.

“Call in a battalion of agents, and I wouldn’t flinch,” he continued. “Not when they don’t even know where to look.”

Ronan turned and pushed through a pair of double doors. I was dragged behind him, still flanked by the guards. We entered what looked like the backstage of a theater. It was dim and narrow, with scuffed floors. Ropes and pulleys hung from the ceiling, and exposed catwalks crisscrossed above. Large wheeled crates sat pushed to the walls, marked with labels like WARDROBE and PROPS. The scent of sawdust and old velvet hung in the air.

They led me down a short flight of stairs, and that’s when the space opened up: wide, grand, and completely surreal.

It wasn’t just a theater. It was a cathedral of spectacle. A domed ceiling stretched overhead, trimmed in gold leaf. Carved columns rose along the walls. Rows of red velvet seats filled the room from front to back, all occupied.

Hundreds of people sat in silence, eyes forward, waiting.

A stage dominated the front of the room, framed by thick crimson curtains. The lights were dim, but the focus was clear. Something was about to begin.

A guard nudged me forward and ordered me to take a seat—front row, in the center.

Is this it? The orientation everyone keeps talking about?

The lights dimmed further, and a blast of inspirational music poured from the overhead speakers, orchestral and triumphant. The crowd shifted. And then it started.

“Father. Father. Father. Father.”

Soft at first. A low, rhythmic chant. Then louder. Faster.

Fists began punching the air in unison, a pulsing wall of energy. Those missing arms raised their stumps. Others hoisted crutches like torches. The entire room throbbed with devotion.

A chill climbed my spine as I noted how many people were disfigured.

Are these people being punished?

The ones I’d seen in that room earlier, cut open and stapled shut, were they failed believers? What price had they paid? And what price would I be expected to?

The music swelled, climbing toward a dramatic peak, and then a spotlight snapped on, slicing through the dark, and the stage curtains parted.

Ronan stepped out, arms raised in welcome, basking in the crowd’s adoration.

The audience exploded in applause and screams. More chanting followed.

“We are Darkside!” they shouted like it was gospel. People rose to their feet. They weren’t just fans of Ronan. Something told me they were true believers in him.

I looked around, stunned. My ears rang. My skin crawled. Was I witnessing devotion or delusion?

“Welcome, my children,” Ronan said, his voice booming through the auditorium via the mic slung around his ear. “We are Darkside.”

There was that word again. Lucian had also called this place Darkside, but back then, it hadn’t really landed. Now it did.

Because I remembered what Evie had been whispering—screaming, really. Every chance she got. And it wasn’t that.

She wasn’t warning me about Darkside.

She was warning me about something else. DarkBright.

Why the distinction? Were these two different places? Or two different faces of this place?

“I want to thank you all for being the community I dreamed of. Your tireless dedication, your loyalty, and your sacrifices. They’ve made Darkside what it is today: a thriving utopia. May we have many more years to come. May you all get what you wish for…what you deserve.”

Is this an anniversary celebration?

“Father! Father! Father!” the crowd chanted as Ronan soaked in their adoration.

He didn’t speak right away. He let it build. Let them offer their voices like tribute. Then, once the timing was perfect, he raised a hand. The room quieted on instinct.

“When the first of you arrived, there was skepticism, resistance, and no shortage of doubt. Could this really work? Was what I wanted to achieve even possible?”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room with practiced grace. “Look around. You are the proof.”

Applause erupted. People around me jumped to their feet, clapping and cheering like they were at a concert.

If evil wore a smile.

Ronan waited, hands raised, then gently motioned for everyone to sit. “And while our founding members, the honored, are no longer with us, their spirit lives on in all of us.”

No longer with us? What happened to them? Are they dead?

I scanned the crowd and spotted Finn and his family sitting a few rows back. He was completely enthralled, smiling like a man watching his favorite preacher. His eyes were lit with devotion, a hand lifted, reaching for a touch. He was fully bought in. So were his children. Everyone except for his wife.

She wasn’t watching Ronan.

She was watching me.

33

The house lights came on, and chipper music piped through the speakers. Ronan’s hype show was over, and people were already filing out of the auditorium. I glanced back to where Finn and his family had been sitting, but they were gone, swept up in the crowd.

“Agent Kane.”

I turned to find Lucian waiting for me, flanked by his usual wall of security.

“Come along. We’re on a schedule.”

I stood and followed him. No one batted an eye, not at me and not at the guards. Armed escorts must be business as usual around here.

“What exactly is this place?” I asked. “At first I thought it was just a housing block, but clearly, it’s more than that.”

“As I told you earlier,” Lucian said, “this is the Darkside. A fully self-reliant community. One we’re very proud of.”

“Self-reliant? How? I don’t see anyone working besides your guards and the people running the commissary. What do the residents do for a living? Is this place just a big free-for-all? How is any of this funded?”

Lucian gave a smug smile. “Some sacrifices must be made to sustain paradise.”

Sacrifices? Lovely. Can’t wait to find out what those are.

“Where are you taking me now?”

“It’s time for your orientation. And since you’re a special guest, you get the special orientation.”

“Oh, you mean I get a pen and pad with the Darkside logo on it? If I ace the quiz, do I get a mug for my room?”

Lucian shot me a look. “I have no idea why Ronan keeps you around. If it were up to me, you’d be long gone by now.”

“Lucky for me it’s not up to you.” I smiled, twisting the knife. “Ronan’s your boss, right? The one calling the shots?”

Lucian flinched, like he was about to snap back and say something mean. I’d struck a nerve.

I’d never be able to turn Lucian into an ally. But I could rattle him. Keep him guessing. Maybe even force him to make hasty decisions. Somehow, I needed to start turning the tide to my advantage.

But instead of insulting me, he reeled it back, composed himself, and offered a smile reeking of fake diplomacy.

“Dear, you’re confused. Perhaps even afraid of what’s coming. That’s why you lash out.”

“Nah,” I said. “It’s because I know you have no real power here. I get the feeling this place runs like Hollywood. Everyone can say no, but only one person gets to say yes. And let’s be honest, it’s not you.”

Without warning—crack!

The back of his hand hit my cheek like a whip, sending me flying to the ground. I landed hard, the side of my face stinging.

People around me stopped for a moment to look. A beat later they moved on as if nothing had happened.

Lucian smoothed his jacket, calm as ever. “Apologies. That’s a tic of mine.”

I didn’t respond right away, even though pain flared across my cheek. I kept my eyes on him. Let him think I was stunned and that he’d won.

That’s right. Lose your temper. Lose control. It’ll be easier to break you later.

He nodded, and his men hauled me up to my feet.

A few stairs and an elevator ride later, we were back in the atrium, where I’d first been introduced to Darkside. This time, I paid less attention to the limping residents and more to the structure itself.

And something struck me. Something that hadn’t occurred to me before. I spun around, neck craning as I scanned the atrium. There were no windows. Not up top, not along the walls. Nothing where there should’ve been natural light.

I thought back to my room. The hallways. The commissary. Outside the auditorium. Not a single window since the moment I woke up in this place.

Fresh air? Last time I breathed that was in the woods with Evie. Since then? Just sterile air blowing out from vents. The low hum of circulation everywhere I went. This was recycled, manufactured life.

Was that what Darkside really meant? No outside world. No sun. No escape.

Lucian turned, studying my face. A slow smile formed.

“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”

“This building… It’s windowless.”

“First off, this isn’t a building,” he said smugly. “It’s a community.” He gestured.

“We’re sealed inside, Lucian. Let’s not split hairs.”

“Well, if you want to get technical, yes. But it’s the only way to survive.”

Survive?

My gut twisted. I began forming a horrifying image in my mind.

“It can’t be,” I said, shaking my head. My chest tightened, and a rush of adrenaline sent my heart into overdrive. My body was already reacting to something my brain hadn’t fully accepted yet.

Lucian leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Looks like our guest is finally catching up.”

Up until now, I’d assumed we were in some massive structure surrounded by pine trees. Something above ground. Visible from a distance. It was the reason why I thought Kang would find me easily, that he would be organizing with backup for a way to breach this compound.

But now? Now I wasn’t so sure.

Lucian’s words echoed. The only way to survive.

Maybe we weren’t inside something easily accessible from the outside.

Maybe we were…

I turned to him, my voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re underground…aren’t we? That’s why it’s called Darkside.”

34

Kang slowly made his way across Hillside, ducking behind trees, diving into brush. Every time he thought the coast was clear, another golf cart rolled by with armed men. He realized running around avoiding security wasn’t a sound strategy, nor was it going to help him find Abby. He needed to get to the heart of this place: the recreation center.

He remembered from his visit with Maddie that a scale model of Hillside was displayed on the first floor. If he could get another look at it, maybe he could pinpoint where they were keeping her. In the meantime, he just hoped Becket had gotten out and was sounding the alarm.

It took longer than he wanted, but Kang eventually got his bearings and had the rec center in sight. He moved deftly, sticking to the shadows and quickly crossing the road into the parking lot.

Crouched behind a tree, he studied the building, trying to determine the best way inside. The windows were reinforced with thick glass. Breaking through would take a lot more than brute force. Even bullets might not do the trick.

He moved in for a better look.

Just then, a golf cart with two guards pulled into the lot. Kang was on the far side of the building, out of sight for now. At first, it looked like they were just doing a drive-through. But then a second cart arrived, and the two guards got out, while the other two kept watch.

They were going to search on foot.

A door opening on the side of the building caught Kang’s attention. A janitor stepped out, lugging two bags of trash. He’d left the door propped open with a small brick.

Opportunity. It was now or never. If he waited too long, the janitor might turn around, or worse, the guards might spot him mid-move.

Kang bolted, closing the distance in seconds, and dropped the man with a clean strike to the back of the head. The janitor crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Sorry, pal. I’ll make it up to you when this is over.

Kang slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

He ducked behind a counter just as the guards approached the building’s large pane windows, flashlights sweeping across the interior. One beam passed directly over him.

Kang held his breath and waited. Lines of perspiration trickled down his face and neck, soaking his collar. His heart thumped hard, each beat echoing in the stillness.

Seconds ticked by as the guards peered through the windows, searching, their beams shifting across the room.

The guards walked off. Moments later the carts rolled away.

Kang walked over to the scale model. It was huge, larger than a full-size pool table, and incredibly detailed. Every home and tree was faithfully represented. There were golf carts on the roads, tiny people jogging and walking dogs. He noted the schools with their track fields and swimming pools. He spotted the sewage treatment center to the north, just like Maddie had mentioned. The tallest building, three floors, appeared to be a hospital. The rec center was directly in the center, the heart of it all. It was the picture-perfect utopia, imagined and brought to life.

Kang quickly snapped a few photos from different angles. He studied the model, noting his location, how far he was from the entrance, and where the security headquarters were.

If they wanted Abby alive, they’d need a secure place. The hospital was possible but too public. A school? Less likely. The security headquarters? It had the personnel and the means to hold someone safely. If she was here, that was where she’d be.

In an effort to get a better view of the security building, Kang leaned forward, placing a hand on the edge of the model. The table tilted downward.

He backed off instinctively, and it slowly righted itself.

He pressed down again, harder. This time, the entire table rotated on a hidden axis, flipping completely over.

Beneath the first model was another one.

It wasn’t Hillside Estates.

It looked completely different. Just as big, covering the same acreage. But there were no homes, no roads, no parks. No trees or rivers. Just a massive monolithic structure made up of four interconnected towers. Five, if he counted the central structure they all seemed to feed into.

What the hell is this?

It reminded Kang of the brutalist AT&T Building in New York, which housed the city’s telecommunications lines. It was windowless, gray, and able to withstand a nuclear blast.

Was this the expansion project Maddie had mentioned, Hillside 2? But this wasn’t the same utopia. It looked like a bunker.

Kang flipped the model back to the Hillside side. A tiny brass label on the edge caught his eye. He squinted. It read BRIGHTSIDE.

He flipped the table again, revealing the dark, windowless megastructure beneath. This side also had a label: DARKSIDE.

Kang stepped back, a chill erupting across his skin.

DarkBright.

That’s what Jane Doe had been trying to say. There were two sides. One aboveground. One buried below.

Was there really an entire self-contained community beneath Hillside? Its twin. Its yin to its yang. Its dark to its bright. And then realization slammed into Kang. Abby hadn’t vanished without a trace.

She was trapped in the Darkside.

35

Becket stumbled through the woods, gripping the backside of his left arm. A bullet had grazed him. It wasn’t serious, but it stung like hell and had him spooked. He never in a million years thought those rent-a-cops would open fire.

Bold bastards.

Either they had a death wish, or they were so drunk on their own authority they thought they could do whatever they wanted.

He swore under his breath as he ducked behind a tree. Another crack echoed through the trees. Kang was right. These people were out of control. Did they honestly believe they could run Hillside however they saw fit?

When he reached the wall, he paused, drawing in a deep breath before starting to climb. Pain spiked through his arm, sharp enough to steal his breath. He clenched his teeth hard to keep from crying out. He couldn’t be sure he’d lost the guards.

He scrambled over the top of the wall and dropped down on the other side, nearly twisting his ankle in the process. He walked it off.

When he reached his Tahoe, Becket slumped into the driver’s seat, catching his breath. He still had no service. He’d have to get back into town to make the call. He started the engine, dropped the car into gear, and sped off.

The sting in his arm dulled to a throb, but heat still radiated from it like a warning flare. Could’ve been worse—he figured the bullet had been just inches from shattering bone. A few inches over and it could’ve punched through his back, right into his heart.

His Tahoe screeched to a stop outside the sheriff’s department, and he hurried inside, blood still seeping through his sleeve. Deputy Peel was inside, hobbling across the room, hand pressed to his lower back.

“Becket, what the hell happened to you?” Peel’s eyes locked on the bloodstain. “Did you get shot?”

“Hillside’s gone rogue! They’ve got assault rifles. They shot at me.”

Peel stepped closer, eyeing the blood soaking Becket’s sleeve. “You mean to tell me those pricks at Hillside shot you?”

“Grazed me.” Becket shook it off, adrenaline masking the sting. “But Kang’s still inside, trapped. They locked the place down. I barely escaped.”

Peel had a blank look on his face, like he was chewing on Becket’s words.

Becket held up his phone. “Kang gave me the number to call in backup. The cavalry. But my phone isn’t working. It keeps dying. What about your phone?”

Peel glanced at his own phone, held it up. “Holy shit. I don’t have a single bar.”

“It’s Hillside. Kang thought they were using a jammer. We need the radio.”

Becket lunged for the console, grabbing the mic. “Kang said to call it in no matter what.”

“Hold up.” Peel took a slow step forward, his limp noticeably lighter now. “Let’s think about this.”

“There’s nothing to think about! This is life and death.” He was about to place the call when cold steel pressed against the back of his skull.

“Put it down,” Peel said, his voice low and mean, like Becket had never heard before.

Becket froze, pulse hammering. “Now’s not the time to screw around, Peel.”

He turned his head, just enough to catch the barrel pointed at him.

The limp? Gone.

The slouch? Straightened.

The look in Peel’s eyes? Dead serious.

“I can’t let you make that call.”

“You don’t know what’s going on in there! They can kill him!”

“They won’t,” Peel muttered, jaw set. “Not if they don’t have to.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t know…” It dawned on Becket right then that Peel knew more than he had let on. “You’re in on it.”

Peel’s grip didn’t waver. “He knew the risk.”

“You’re really gonna let an FBI agent die? For what, to satisfy Stacks? You don’t need to go down with him.”

“What makes you think Stacks is going down?”

“These are FBI agents, Peel. The feds will come looking sooner or later. Don’t make it any worse than it already is.”

Peel’s eye twitched. His lip curled like he wanted to argue. “You need to sit this one out.”

Becket’s gaze locked on Peel’s. “You’re better than this. Don’t do it.”

But Peel wasn’t. “Sorry, pal.”

When Becket came to, his head throbbed and the metallic taste of blood sat in his mouth. His hands reached instinctively for his sidearm. Gone. His head lolled, and slowly, steel bars swam into focus. He was locked in one of the old holding cells, a single square room with bars for walls.

Peel sat outside, in a chair, gun resting on his thigh and pointed at Becket.

“You stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Becket groaned, forcing himself upright. “You didn’t have to clobber me with your gun.”

The door creaked open, and Sheriff Stacks strolled in, hands in his pockets, casual like he owned the place. He glanced at Becket behind the bars and shook his head.

“Jesus, Becket. You really thought you were onto something, didn’t you?” He smirked. “All you had to do was play along.”

“Play along with what?”

Stacks stepped closer, lowered his voice. “I told you to leave Jane Doe alone, but no, you had to keep poking, feeding the FBI.”

“I don’t get it. You’re the one that called them.”

Stacks let out a low chuckle. “I did. It was supposed to be simple. Hand over the girl, they clear out, we move on.” He shook his head in disappointment. “But you? You stirred things up.”

He looked at Peel and then at the gun he was holding and nodded.

“You should’ve kept your head down, Becket.”

36

Kang stood frozen, the weight of the discovery pressing down on him. A massive structure was buried beneath Hillside.

Sure, there was a tiny chance he could be wrong, but he didn’t think so. It could explain how Abby and Jane Doe had vanished without a trace. Jane Doe’s pursuers must’ve caught up, and Abby got swept up with her and taken here. Wrong place, wrong time.

But there was hope. Abby was smart, resourceful, adaptable. If anyone could stay alive long enough for him to find her, it was her.

Kang snapped a series of photos of the Darkside model, every angle he could manage, before heading to the second floor.

Maddie had danced circles around him during their tour. The way she’d led them around, showing them what she wanted, providing information that painted a curated view of Hillside. She was polished and unflappable. Playing the role of a lifetime. But even the best actors slip.

He moved through Maddie’s office, eyes sweeping every inch for anything that might link Hillside to the world below: maps, keys, or blueprints.

Was it a stairwell?

Or an elevator?

Perhaps a service road?

There had to be something.

Voices downstairs caught Kang’s ear. He stuck his head out of Maddie’s office and spotted two figures by the front door. Maddie and her head of security, Newport, had just entered.

Crap!

He looked over her office. No closets. No counters to hide behind, not even a large sculpture. Maddie’s office was too simplistic for that. Kang’s mind raced for an exit.

He hurried down the hall and slipped into the bathroom. A row of urinals. Three stalls. Not much cover, but better than nothing.

He stood by the door, heart pounding, hoping they were just grabbing something from her office.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Maddie called out.

Kang rolled his eyes, wondering if his luck could get any worse.

The bathroom was unisex, so she was coming inside. Kang entered the last stall and climbed onto the toilet seat, crouched low, facing the stall door. One hand braced against the partition wall for balance, the other against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Every muscle was locked still. He slowed his breaths and prayed she didn’t have a favorite stall.

The door creaked open. Heels tapped against the tile, each step echoing louder as she closed the distance. The first stall door groaned open.

She hesitated.

Was there overflow? A bad flush?

Kang’s pulse slammed against his ribs. His knee began to cramp, toes flexing for balance.

The door creaked shut again. More heels clicking. She moved to the next stall, paused, then pushed it open. Another beat. Then the click of the latch.

Relief washed over him as a steady stream hit the water.

And it wasn’t soon enough. Kang’s legs were trembling. His left foot started to slip on the rim of the seat. He clenched everything, willing himself to stay still. She’d be done soon.

Then the bathroom door flew open, slamming against the wall.

“Maddie!”

It was Newport.

“My guys at the gate spotted Deputy Becket’s Tahoe tearing past. Somehow, he got out.” Newport’s voice was tight. “Lucky bastard. I wanted to string him up.”

“Was the FBI agent with him?” she asked. The toilet flushed, sharp and loud.

“They couldn’t confirm. But we have to assume he could still be inside Hillside.”

The stall door creaked open. Footsteps headed over to the sink. Water ran, followed by the rustle of paper towels.

“Stacks needs to be informed,” Newport continued. “It was his responsibility to keep the feds in line. Clearly, he’s lost control.”

“Call him,” Maddie said. “Tell him to get here now!”

“I already did. He’s on his way.” Newport’s voice cooled. “You know, none of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t taken that FBI agent.”

He? Kang’s grip on the stall wall tightened. If Maddie wasn’t the one who took Abby, then who did? Someone else was involved. Someone they both answered to.

“What’s the plan now?” Newport asked.

“It’s time we had a conversation with him.”

There they go again with that mysterious person. Who are they talking about? Doesn’t seem like they’re talking about Stacks.

Maddie and Newport exited the bathroom. Kang remained frozen, waiting for the door to the bathroom to close. He exited the stall and hurried to the door, cracking it a tiny bit. Maddie’s office was dark. The rec center was empty. He crept down the hall and down the stairs, then slipped outside, hoping to catch up with them and see where they were heading.

He crouched low, sticking to the shadows. The parking lot’s dim streetlights gave him plenty of cover, but where had they gone? How did they disappear so quickly?

Crunch.

The soft sound of boots echoed all around Kang. Then blinding beams burst to life, locking onto him. A dozen rifles raised in unison.

Out from the dark stepped Maddie with her arms folded neatly across her chest and her smile razor sharp.

“Welcome back, Agent Kang.”

37

Kang knelt on the cold, hard sidewalk, wrists zip-tied behind his back. The plastic bit into his skin every time he shifted. His knees pressed into the unforgiving pavement, sharp and unrelenting.

Maddie paced around him, slow and deliberate, circling like a hyena eyeing where to bite first. She looked smug, almost giddy, as her heels clicked softly against the concrete.

Kang tracked every step, a bit dumbfounded by the risks these people were taking. It made no sense.

Abby had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They could’ve released her in the woods and washed their hands of it. Whatever minimal investigation followed would’ve never uncovered that structure buried beneath Hillside.

But they’d held on to her, even knowing he was looking for her.

Did they really believe this wouldn’t end like Ruby Ridge or Waco? Did they think they were untouchable?

“Assistant Special Agent in Charge Kang,” Maddie finally said. She spun to address her audience, voice dripping with showmanship. “We have law enforcement royalty in our midst. Credited with solving some of the most baffling cases the FBI has ever seen.”

She turned back to Kang and knelt a bit, eyeing him like he was a curiosity on display.

“For someone with such a shiny résumé, you were surprisingly easy to catch. I’ve got to wonder… Is the bar really that low at the bureau?”

She studied his face for a moment, tilting her head.

“What? Why do you look so surprised? You think we don’t do background checks on uninvited guests? Please. We’re not a bunch of amateurs.”

“Where’s my partner?” Kang asked.

“Ah, Special Agent in Charge Abby Kane. The other half of the dynamic duo, and the boss lady.” She leaned in, smirking. “Who would’ve thought… Two famous and powerful FBI agents go missing in the Sierra Nevadas.”

“She’s not missing,” Kang shot back. “I know she’s here.”

Maddie straightened, flashing her polished smile. “Tell me something, Agent Kang. You’ve had a good look around. Did you find her?”

Kang didn’t answer. He held her gaze, unflinching.

“You’re holding two federal agents captive. You really think that’s a problem you can later sweep under the rug? The full weight of the bureau will descend on this place.”

Maddie tsked, shaking her head like a disappointed parent. “Maybe the better question is whether I care at all.” She turned away, then glanced back, amusement flickering in her eyes. “You think this is another Waco waiting to happen?”

Kang’s response was sharp. “You know how that ended. The bureau’s still standing. They’re not.”

Maddie’s laughter rang out, light but laced with something colder.

“We do have different ideas on what success looks like, don’t we?” Maddie circled him, smug as ever. “You’re down on your knees. If that’s your idea of winning, by all means, keep winning.”

Kang didn’t bite. She wanted to knock him off balance. He wouldn’t give her that.

Maddie eyed him like a prize she hadn’t decided what to do with yet. “I’ll tell you what, Agent Kang. Since we both know this won’t end well for you, I’m feeling generous. Walk away. Forget this ever happened. I’ll even sweeten the deal with a parting gift, double your salary. Plus a new identity, along with a little cottage in the Alps.” She smiled. “And I’ll release your partner. Alive.”

Kang’s jaw tightened. “You think you can buy me off like you did the sheriff’s department,” he said, voice steady. “I know they’re crooked. They’ll face the bureau’s wrath just like you.”

Maddie clicked her tongue, shaking her head as if she were disappointed. “Still so confident.” She gestured wide. “Your partner’s nowhere to be found. Could be dead already. You’re tied up, a dozen barrels aimed at your head, and you’re still playing the hero.” She made an unhappy face. “Please tell me you’re not counting on Deputy Becket to save the day.”

She let out a sharp laugh, turning to Newport. “Can you believe that?”

“That’s crazy.” Newport grinned. “Last I heard, he’s sitting in a jail cell, useless as a wet match.”

The guards chuckled, the sound swelling until it echoed off the surrounding walls.

Kang smiled faintly, cutting through the noise like a blade. “You’re laughing a little too hard for someone so confident.”

Maddie’s smile faltered, but only for a breath. Then she smoothed it back into place.

“So, what do you say?” she said, the mockery back in her voice. “You won’t get a better offer.”

Kang narrowed his eyes. “I saw the model,” he said flatly. “That thing, buried beneath Hillside, that’s where you’re keeping her, isn’t it? In the Darkside.”

Maddie jerked back in mock surprise. “I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re in charge of the Brightside. Isn’t that the nickname given to Hillside Estates? And below, there’s someone else, who oversees the Darkside. Your counterpart—or should I say direct report?”

“Direct report?” Maddie scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to Newport. “Hear that? He thinks I answer to him.”

“Him again. You won’t even say his name. That’s telling. You’re afraid of him.” Kang kept his gaze steady. “Will the next planned Hillside also have a secret facility underneath it?”

It was quick, but there was a flicker in Maddie’s expression. Kang saw it. And that told him he’d hit closer to the truth than she wanted. But being the professional she was, she snapped back.

“Oh, Agent Kang, your imagination never ceases to amaze me.”

“You know this is a no-win for you, right?”

“We did nothing wrong.” Maddie shrugged, casual as ever. “You trespassed. That’s all. As for your partner, we don’t have her, and that’s the honest truth.”

“Detaining a federal agent is illegal,” Kang said, sticking to his story. “Whatever you’re running beneath Hillside, it ends here.”

Maddie sighed dramatically, then gestured around them. “If I were to play along with your accusations”—she smiled again—“I’d say, look at the Brightside, Agent Kang. Up here we’re happy people living in beautiful cul-de-sacs. I can’t say the same for down below.”

More like cult-de-sacs, Kang thought.

“I don’t think he’s taking your generous offer,” Newport said. He nodded at one of his guards, and Kang heard the shuffle of footsteps behind him.

Maddie leaned down and whispered into Kang’s ear. “Don’t worry. You’ll see her again. Everyone sees what’s down there before they die.”

A flash of pain exploded at the base of his skull. Then blackness.

38

Stacks and Peel stood outside the front gates of Hillside. Peel leaned against the cruiser, rubbing his chin, while Stacks paced, sucking on his second cigarette. Every few seconds his eyes flicked to his watch.

“What the hell’s taking so long?” Stacks muttered, smoke curling from his lips. “Don’t they realize we’ve got a serious situation here?”

A golf cart buzzed into view on the other side of the gate. Newport stepped out, smug as ever.

“You sure do take your damn time,” Stacks snapped, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground.

“We’ve been busy,” Newport replied, motioning for one of his men to open the gates.

Stacks didn’t waste time. “Am I to believe you’re now detaining not one but two federal agents? What the hell is wrong with you people? Do you understand the kind of fire you’re playing with? I can’t just snap my fingers and make this go away.”

Newport offered a lazy smile. “You need to. That’s why we pay you to handle little inconveniences like this, remember?” He gestured to the cart. “Hop in. We’ll discuss this someplace more comfortable.”

Stacks planted his hands on his hips. “You don’t get it. This is the federal government we’re talking about. I’ve got no authority over them. When I agreed to this, we weren’t talking about kidnapping FBI agents.”

Newport let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “An army of agents could come in here right now and tear apart every inch of Hillside, and they’d come up empty.”

Stacks squinted at him. “So what then? Did you kill them? Chop them up? Dump them in the woods?”

Newport smirked. “You watch too many movies, Sheriff. If they were dead, don’t you think you’d know?”

Stacks shook his head, the heel of his hand resting on his belt. “I’m all out of words.”

“For a big, bad sheriff, you scare easy,” Newport said.

Stacks shot a look at Peel, who’d been silent, watching the whole exchange.

“You coming?” Newport asked, nodding to the cart.

Stacks hesitated, then threw up his hands. “I’m tired of your bullshit. We’re out. You’re on your own.”

Newport’s grin didn’t fade. “Wait a minute. We had an agreement. You need to do your part.”

Stacks bristled. “Jesus Christ, do you hear yourself? You have any idea what’s coming? I can’t fix this on my own. This needs to be a team effort. And from where I’m standing, it ain’t worth our time anymore. You can tell Maddie we’re done covering for whatever you’re doing here.”

Newport’s grin stretched wider. “Maybe you should tell her yourself.” He pointed to the cart. “She’s waiting for both of you.”

Stacks glanced at Peel again. His deputy gave a subtle nod.

“Maybe we hear her out,” Peel said. “Maybe there’s a clean way out.”

“Dammit.” Stacks climbed into the cart, muttering under his breath. Peel followed.

The short ride took them to the rec center. Newport led them upstairs to Maddie’s office. She sat behind her desk, hands folded, expression calm but eyes sharp.

“Sheriff Stacks. Deputy Peel.” She smiled politely. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s late.”

Stacks dropped into the chair opposite her, removing his hat. “We’ve got serious problems, Maddie. And right now, fixing them feels damn near impossible.”

Maddie kept her voice light. “I think you’re overreacting.”

Stacks leaned forward. “Where are they? Where are Agents Kang and Kane?”

Maddie’s smile never wavered. “Well, I know where Kang is. He’s in our holding cell. We caught him trespassing and have detained him. We’re well within our rights. As for Kane, we don’t have her.”

She turned to Newport. “Have you or your men seen Agent Kane on our property?”

Newport shook his head, posture easy. “We run a tight ship. If she were here, we’d know.”

Maddie faced Stacks again. “This whole situation you’re so worried about, it’s really all in your head. If Kang apologizes for trespassing, I think we can forget about pressing charges and hand him over to you. No fuss.”

Stacks snorted. “That’s generous. But it doesn’t solve the problem. Kane’s still missing. And I’ve got to assume Kang knows more than you think. This isn’t going away anytime soon, Maddie. In fact, if I were you, I’d get yourself a damn good lawyer. Your little setup here in the woods? It’s over. Don’t expect help from me or my department.”

Maddie’s eyes narrowed, a hint of irritation. “Are you threatening me, Sheriff Stacks?”

“I’m stating the facts,” he shot back. “You’ve overplayed your hand.”

Maddie’s smile tightened. “Are you sure they’ll treat you like a victim in this, Sheriff? How many times have you falsified reports? Ignored calls? They dig deep enough, they’ll find out exactly how helpful you’ve been and how much richer you’ve gotten.”

Stacks’s jaw worked, but he said nothing.

Peel shifted uneasily beside him, voice low. “If this thing blows up, they’ll dig up everything, Stacks. The land deals. The money.”

Maddie’s eyes gleamed. “See? We’re in this together.”

Stacks glared, but his shoulders slumped. “Let’s cut to it. What do you want?”

Maddie’s smile returned. “I want cooperation. And in exchange, I can offer you something to cool off the bureau.”

“And what would that be?”

“Hypothetically, if we could point you to Agent Kane, would that appease you?”

Stacks frowned. “You just told me you didn’t know where she was.”

Maddie cut him off, voice sharp. “Humor me, Sheriff. Answer the question.”

He paused, weighing it. “If she’s alive? Yeah, it changes things. But she better be alive.”

Maddie nodded. “She’s alive. But how long that lasts? That’s not up to me.”

Stacks leaned forward, gaze steady. “Where is she? Let’s go get her. We’ll take both agents off your hands right now.”

Maddie smiled thinly. “It’s not that simple. We need guarantees. An agreement that protects us and you.”

Stacks scowled. “We’re both buried in this. Unless you’ve got a scapegoat hiding somewhere, I don’t see how you expect me to pull that off.”

Maddie’s smile sharpened. “Oh, we have one.”

39

“It can’t be…”

The words barely made it past my lips. I stood frozen in the center of the atrium, neck craned, searching for a sign that told me I was wrong. A vent. A sliver of sky. Some whisper of the outside world. But there was nothing above me except concrete and shadows.

My stomach pitched. I could feel the recycled air in my lungs now, stale and unnatural.

Lucian just stood there, watching with that smug smile as he savored every second of my slow unraveling.

He hadn’t confirmed it. He didn’t have to. But I knew we were underground.

If I thought it was a stretch before, believing people chose this life, willingly submitting to one man’s rule in a place that operated like a cult, this shattered that completely.

They didn’t just give up their freedoms. They gave up the sky.

No sun. No fresh air. I walked over to a potted tree. It was fake.

I couldn’t believe these people chose to bury themselves here. Voluntarily. Under tons of rock and dirt. And, it seemed, permanently.

That realization pressed in on me like the walls themselves were shrinking.

Who chooses that kind of life? Who trades the open world for a cage underground?

Lucian’s smile held steady, but his eyes sharpened, dissecting me. “Do you think it could get any worse?” His voice was laced with smugness. He was giddy beyond belief.

He gestured over to the other side of the atrium, with an elegant sweep, like he was inviting me into a garden tour. “Come. It’s not often we entertain guests who appreciate the architecture.”

Unfazed, he strolled ahead, glancing back just once. “There’s tea waiting. It might help you adjust to your new perspective.”

Against my better judgment, I followed.

He led me through the residents, who moved around us like I wasn’t even there. It was a much smaller crowd than earlier and seemed to be dwindling as the minutes raced by. Soon they would retire to their little apartments, tucked in for the night.

In the corner of the atrium was a small private area, behind glass walls. Inside was a round table with seating. Lucian used his key card to gain entrance. He pulled out a chair with a graceful sweep of his hand, and I sat stiffly.

Laid out before me were a box of Darkside tea bags, a steaming kettle of hot water, and neatly stacked ceramic cups. Even the sugar packets and creamers bore the same branding. A tiered serving tray held finger sandwiches, scones, three varieties of jam, clotted cream, and various pastries.

“There’s a certain comfort in routine, don’t you think?” he said as he picked up the kettle. “Even down here.”

Lucian poured two cups without asking, his movements unhurried. He slid one cup toward me.

“We’ve found inductees prefer chamomile while adjusting to new surroundings. Helps with the nerves.”

I didn’t touch the cup. “I’m not an inductee.”

Lucian smiled, folding his hands over the table. “Of course. No one feels like one at first.” He drew a sharp breath. “At least try the sandwiches. Surely you must be hungry.”

Lucian lifted his cup and took a sip of chamomile like we were two acquaintances having afternoon tea. I stared across the table at him as my insides twisted tighter with each passing second.

I pointed to the atrium. “These people move like they’re clocking in for a shift at the hive. They’re smiling, nodding, and marching to orders they don’t even question.”

“It’s because they chose this,” he said softly.

“I’m not here by choice.”

Lucian lowered his cup. “People come here because they need something they can’t find out there. A chance to start fresh. A clean slate.”

“You prey on the weak,” I fired back. “On people with nowhere else to go.”

Lucian shook his head. “No, what we offer is opportunity. Those who join us are given comfort, stability, safety. Things that, for many, were out of reach.”

“You mean the air that’s pumped in and the generic food choices? How do you explain those butchered bodies I found, Lucian?”

That wiped the smile clean off his face.

“I saw the gurneys. Bodies carved up like meat. Did they get the reboot you’re so proud of?” My pulse quickened. “Did they not follow all the rules? Or did they outlive their usefulness?”

Lucian didn’t bite. He adjusted his cuffs, reclaiming the polished calm. His gaze held steady, professional. “Some people simply can’t be helped.”

“Right. And I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself every time someone ends up on one of those gurneys. Did Evie come here wide eyed, hoping to fulfill her dreams?”

“Evie, God bless her, was a lost soul. It pains me, it really does. We tried very hard with her. Alas, some are incapable of change.”

“You mean some are incapable of following your screwed system once they realize the truth.”

Lucian said nothing, smiling, finger gently tapping the side of his cup.

“This place, Darkside, it doesn’t run on hope alone,” I pushed. “This tea, the clean water, the power, where does it all come from? This must cost a small fortune to keep running. Who’s bankrolling this? Ronan?”

Lucian smiled thinly. “We’re remarkably self-sufficient. You’d be surprised how resourceful we can be.”

“Private labeling doesn’t cut cost enough to cover overhead.”

Lucian held up both palms. “You’ll see soon enough. There’s a system in place. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

I crinkled my brow. “You keep dodging.”

Lucian stood smoothly, gesturing for me to rise. “Your orientation isn’t over yet, Agent Kane. There’s more to see.”

I didn’t move. “Do the children here have a say, or do their parents drag them along for the ride?”

Lucian’s eyes gleamed, a flicker of pride. “Some are born here now. We’re building something new. A beginning.”

As the weight of his words pressed down, I forced myself to stand. “I bet the ones on the gurneys thought that, too, when they first arrived.”

Lucian stepped aside, ignoring my last comment. He led the way out of the room. “There’s a process behind all of this. You’ll understand soon enough.”

I followed, but the sickness bubbling in my gut told me I wouldn’t like what was coming next.

40

Lucian led me through another pair of double doors and down a wide corridor, where the air was much cooler. Goose bumps prickled along my arms.

Two armed guards flanked the hallway, standing motionless like statues. Eyes locked straight ahead. Neither acknowledged us. Didn’t even blink as we passed.

“Do your guards come with wind-up keys in their backs?” I asked.

Lucian didn’t look at me. “Is everything a joke to you, Agent Kane?”

“Only when I’m abducted and held against my will in an underground cavern that houses a cult.”

“That’s a shame. You might have had a career as a comic.”

“Let me ask you something, Lucian. Do you like living down here? Don’t you feel locked up?”

He kept his mouth zipped, eyes straight ahead.

“Surely you must miss the highlights of being out in the open, the fresh air, the sunshine, the beach, the parks… Yes, I know you have a lot of creature comforts in the Darkside, but it’s not the same. Oh wait, does Ronan allow you a weekend pass every now and then? Do you have a special someone you visit?”

Lucian stopped and turned to me. He towered over my tiny frame. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He must have been under strict orders by Ronan, as a second later, he composed himself. “I’m going to enjoy watching you assimilate.”

And I’m going to enjoy locking you up in Supermax, the Alcatraz of the Rockies.

“We must be heading somewhere very important,” I said.

Up ahead the hallway ended with double doors. Written above them in large red lettering was Father blesses those who give freely.

We passed through the set of reinforced doors, heavier than the last. As they sealed shut behind us with a soft mechanical hiss, the short corridor darkened. Running lights blinked to life along the floor, a trail of dim yellow guiding us forward.

Up ahead, a thick black curtain swayed slightly. Behind it, I heard faint voices. For a split second, I thought we were backstage again, inside another auditorium.

Lucian pushed the curtain aside, and a room opened up. I stopped just inside, blinking, trying to take it all in.

Rows of people filled the space, seated at long tables that stretched across the floor. Others stood in clusters near the back, heads bent together, speaking in hushed tones. Most of their attention was locked on the wall at the front of the room. An enormous grid of monitors, stacked floor to ceiling, pulsed with a dim hypnotic glow.

There was even alcohol. Beer, wine, and whiskey were being served by women in bedazzled coats and short skirts. Small baskets of popcorn sat beside crystal tumblers and pint glasses. Soft laughter bubbled up now and then as glasses clinked.

The scene hit me with a familiarity. It reminded me of a casino sportsbook. Those cavernous lounges where people gather to bet on horse races or prizefights. But this wasn’t Vegas.

Toward the rear of the room, a large banner hung on the wall. It caught my eye, and without realizing it, I was moving toward it.

As I closed the distance, the stitched words came into focus:

The Dark accepts all gifts.

With every Offering, we grow stronger.

Blessings are the fruits of our efforts.

A finger, a promise. A hand, a future.

To bleed is to be chosen. To offer is to belong.

Survival is a choice.

It’s not a sacrifice if you willingly give.

At the bottom, a signature: Father Dark.

“Wise words from our leader,” Lucian said behind me.

The words were hand stitched. Even and perfectly in line. Someone had taken the time to do an impressive job. I reached out to touch it.

Lucian’s hand shot out, stopping mine in midair. “It’s meant to be read, not touched,” he said calmly.

He guided me toward the front of the room, where the glow of the monitors was. I expected to see horses, race cars, and athletes.

Instead, I saw body parts. Anatomical diagrams of kidneys, livers, lungs, corneas, twisting slowly on screen like prizes on a carousel. Each had fluctuating numbers next to it. Dollar values that appeared to shift in real time. And all of it being studied intently by the people in the room.

I zeroed in on a screen. A single lung, bright red against a black background. The dollar amount ticking higher.

Is that a lung for sale?

Suddenly I was back in that room with the gurneys. The bodies with the crude staples. And Evie’s missing eyes.

This was the why? This had to be the explanation for this place.

I shook my head, unable to process it all at once. When Lucian said the worst was yet to come, I thought he was messing with me, playing more head games.

But this…

Were these people being farmed for their organs?

Lucian stepped up beside me, hands folded behind his back.

“Earlier, you asked about our economy, Agent Kane,” he said calmly, almost casually. “Well…welcome to the marketplace.” He looked at the crowd. “Or as we call it—the Offering Room.”

41

Appleton didn’t like it one bit. She’d sworn she wouldn’t get involved. In six more months, she’d be free. Retired, pension secured, the weight of small-town law enforcement finally off her shoulders.

She’d even considered moving back to her hometown. Macon, Georgia, wasn’t fancy, but her sister still lived there, along with cousins, aunts, uncles, and childhood friends she hadn’t seen in years. Her son was settled in South Carolina, married with kids. Her daughter was down in Florida with her family. Living closer would make seeing the grandkids easier. She also owned a plot of land there, so building would be simple.

Or maybe she’d do something radical, like her old friend who lost everything in a fire outside Reno. When the house burned down to a concrete slab, she took the insurance check and moved to Costa Rica. Bought a house on a hill overlooking the jungle. Said the fruit was sweeter, the mornings quieter, and the monkeys made for good company.

The world was wide open. For the first time in a long time, the horizon wasn’t pinned down by a badge.

So why the hell was she about to risk all that?

She sat in her car outside her home, keys in the ignition, the engine running smoothly. She shut it off and sat there for a moment.

Am I really doing this?

The question felt hollow, but she already knew the answer.

Appleton started the engine and drove off, heading toward the one decision that could undo everything she’d built.

During the drive, Appleton kept pushing down the voice in her head, the one telling her she was doing the right thing, even though she didn’t want to. She’d kept her nose clean for this long. Why screw it up now?

Because she knew right from wrong. Always had.

And for a long time, she’d looked the other way. With Stacks. With Peel.

Too many times procedure wasn’t followed.

Too many times reports were rewritten.

Too many times things were buried.

And Peel’s injury? She knew that was bullshit from the start. She handled the paperwork. She’d been complicit, following Stacks’s orders, pretending she was just doing her job. But she couldn’t bite her tongue any longer. And that’s why she was making the drive.

She slowed as she approached the station. Becket’s car sat outside, alone under the streetlight. He’d stopped by her house earlier, begged her, and said, “If you don’t hear from me in an hour, come find me.”

It was well past that.

Appleton parked, hesitated a beat, then climbed out. She pushed through the front doors, expecting the worst.

Becket was behind bars, lying across the floor, still. Her eyes zeroed in on the blood-soaked uniform pasted to his arm. Her worst nightmare had come true. But then Becket’s head snapped up.

Appleton gasped as her hand flew to her chest. “Dammit, Becket. I thought you were dead.”

He sat up. “I told you,” he said. “You didn’t want to believe me.”

“Are you serious? Stacks and Peel did this?”

“Locked me in. And I got shot. Well, it’s just a graze.”

“They shot you?”

“No, the security dudes at the Hillside. It’s a long story.” He pushed to his feet and gripped the bars. “Let me out before they come back.”

Appleton grabbed the keys but hesitated, staring at him through the steel. Could she trust him not to drag her down too? Earlier, he’d promised he wouldn’t let that happen.

“You sure this isn’t because you did something dumb?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Becket gave her a flat look. “Do I look like I had a choice?”

She opened the cell, and Becket stepped out, wincing as he gripped his bad arm.

“Why?” she asked. “Why’d they lock you up? And why were you shot?”

Becket started rambling about the shoot-out at Hillside, that Kang was still trapped inside and Stacks and Peel were somehow involved. Appleton listened best she could, trying to make sense of what he was saying as he tripped over his words and backtracked.

“Wait, you’re telling me Stacks and Peel are tied to Kane’s disappearance?” she asked as she put a fresh bandage on his wound.

“That’s what Kang thinks.”

Appleton sat back, shaking her head. “Stacks, disappearing a federal agent? I knew they weren’t straight, but this…”

“You’ve known for a long time. This isn’t just some local corruption case. It’s big. Kang intends to investigate Stacks and the entire office.”

He glanced toward the door, toward the night outside.

“There was a lot of gunfire when I left. I can’t be sure some of it wasn’t aimed at him.”

“You think they killed him?”

“It’s possible, but until I know for sure, I’m assuming he figured a way to keep himself alive. Or at the very least, hidden. Look, I was supposed to call a number he gave me, one that would trigger an army of agents to descend on this place.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“No cell service. Kang thinks Hillside is jamming the cell towers all over the area.”

“Is that why I’ve got no service?”

Appleton leaned back, taking it in. “Jammed towers. Assault rifles. Two federal agents gone. All this because of a Jane Doe you picked up in the middle of the night?”

Becket’s jaw clenched. “Doesn’t it ever strike you as odd? The way Hillside polices themselves? Stacks never wanted us getting too close.”

“That’s the agreement. They handle their own. Why would we step in?”

Becket stared at her, incredulous. “Come on, Appleton. You’re not defending Stacks, are you?”

Her face tightened. “No, I’m not. But it’s been this way for so long, I guess I stopped thinking about it and got used to the situation.”

Becket softened a hair. “We all knew it was wrong and did nothing.”

She looked down and sighed hard. “So, what now?”

“I need help calling the FBI.” He pointed at the radio. “We can still call out. Kang gave me a number. It’s programmed in my phone.”

Appleton’s eyes flicked toward the equipment. “So call.”

“Peel took my phone before he left. Probably destroyed it, for all I know. I need you to make calls, try and rally the FBI.”

He crossed to the weapons locker and grabbed a shotgun and a box of shells.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Appleton barked.

“I’m going back.”

“You just told me they’ve got assault rifles. You won’t stand a chance!”

“I’ve got no choice. In the meantime, do whatever you can to sound the alarm with the FBI. Tell them Kane and Kang are in danger, tell them whatever they need to hear to send an army of agents pronto!”

Appleton grabbed his arm, squeezing hard enough to make him flinch. “Becket. If you’re wrong about this, and I stick my neck out? I lose everything. My pension, my retirement, my future.” Her jaw tightened. “Six months left, and I’m out clean.” Her voice cracked.

Becket held her gaze. “If this goes sideways, Stacks will find a way to burn you.”

Appleton let out a sigh as she squeezed the bridge of her nose. For years, she’d kept her head down and stayed clean. Followed orders, even when they tasted sour. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end, wrapped up in a mess she didn’t make.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Trust me. Do what I say, and you’ll come out on the right side of this.” He turned and left the station.

Her chest tightened as she watched him climb into his Tahoe. Georgia, the grandkids, even Costa Rica. Was she really willing to wager it all on Becket?

This isn’t my fight.

42

The Offering Room. Was I really supposed to believe this was a marketplace, the hub of their economy? Still, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the screens as I tried to make sense of what I was looking at. I walked closer to the bank of monitors and focused on one in the center: a graphic of a kidney, rotating slowly. A dollar amount hovered beside it: $450.

Then someone from the back shouted, “I offer!” I turned and spotted a man holding up a numbered placard. A second later, another hand went up. “I offer!” Then another.

As each person raised their number, the price began to drop—$440, $425, $410.

I frowned. That wasn’t how auctions worked.

Lucian came up beside me. “Have you figured it out?”

“What are they doing?” I asked, my voice thin. “Are they offering…”

A fourth bid came in. The price dropped again—$390. The room went silent. A timer above the kidney began to count down.

Four.

Three.

No other offers came in.

Two.

One.

A soft buzz sounded, followed by a burst of digital fireworks.

Winning Offering: $390.

A photo of the woman who’d made the final offer appeared next to the kidney. A banner flashed: 4.2 MONTHS BLESSING SECURED.

She smiled, basking in joy.

I felt sick as realization settled in.

Toby. The boy with the missing fingers.

The limping residents.

The blind.

Evie…

It all came rushing back, snapping together in the most grotesque way.

“They’re not buying these organs,” I murmured. “They’re volunteering them.”

“Exactly,” Lucian said. “The Blessing is the amount of credit they’ll receive at the commissary.”

My stomach turned. “People are trading their own bodies for goods?”

Lucian beamed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I turned to him, nausea creeping up my throat. “There’s only so much to give, to trade.”

“Well, that depends on how you trade and what you’re willing to part with,” he said, like it was a stock tip. “Some burn through inventory quickly. Others…learn the art of restraint. Bartering takes practice. There’s a strategy to it.”

“Practice? Strategy? None of that matters when the endgame is the same.”

He shrugged lightly. “Life can be unfair, can’t it? Of course, supply and demand come into play, as you’ve just seen. Too many people willing to trade a kidney, and the payout tanks. However, this person got a great deal. She has four months of Blessing in the commissary. Some have been known to stretch a two-month Blessing into four. Very resourceful.”

“Who decides the value of a kidney?”

“The marketplace does.” Lucian smiled faintly and gestured to the room like he was unveiling a masterpiece. “This is our bartering system. This is our currency. Food, medicine, power tools, appliances—whatever you need or desire, it can be acquired here by a simple Offering.”

My mind flashed to Finn’s wife. The hollow look in her eyes, the limp. What had she offered to feed their family for three months?

“This can’t be real,” I muttered. “Why would anyone willingly do this?”

Lucian’s gaze softened with false sympathy. “Because they believe in it. This is utopia for some. A second chance at life, Agent Kane. Whether or not you agree with it.”

I scoffed, fists curling. “This is a cult. And Ronan? He’s just a psychopath dressing it up as salvation. It’s cruel.”

“This isn’t cruelty,” Lucian defended. “It’s choice. It’s empowerment. Every person here knows the cost, and they’re willing to pay it.”

“With their life?”

A sudden cheer rippled through the crowd, grabbing our attention.

On one of the larger screens, a man’s photo blinked next to the words 3.7 MONTHS BLESSING SECURED.

An eye icon flashed beside it.

The winner was a man sitting in the front row. Others gathered around him as he beamed, soaking in the praise, claps on the back, handshakes, hugs, and shots of alcohol. They were celebrating his sacrifice. A single eyeball.

And he smiled through it all.

Did he even understand what he’d given up? The implications of that choice?

“See?” Lucian’s voice dropped low, almost reverent. “Now that’s a smart trade. He still has one healthy eye, really only a minor inconvenience. But in return, he’s provided for his family.”

I watched, sickened, as a blind woman shuffled toward him, calling his name.

“I just heard,” she said softly, feeling for his hand. “Congratulations.”

And the man, he smiled. Proud and disturbingly content.

“Shall we continue?” Lucian said with quiet satisfaction. He gestured toward a darkened doorway on the other side of the room. “You’ve seen how the system works. Now let me show you how the faithful are shaped.”

43

Becket gripped the wheel tighter as he made the drive toward Hillside. The Tahoe bumped along the road, suspension rattling under the pressure of his speed. He turned off onto the dirt service road that wound behind the estate. It was the only way to reach the section of wall he and Kang had previously scouted. The tires fishtailed in the gravel as he rounded a curve in the road. When he reached the spot, he parked behind a thicket of trees and killed the engine.

No sign of Kang. He wasn’t surprised.

Becket climbed out of the Tahoe and made his way to the wall, climbed it, and headed into Hillside.

The whirring motor of a cart buzzed in the distance. They were still patrolling. Did that mean Kang was still on the loose? His uniform made him stand out like a flare. He took his hat off and buried it in a bush.

He stayed low, ducking into hedges, crawling across mulch beds, cutting between properties. Every time he saw a set of headlights or heard the electric whir of a cart, he dropped into the shadows and held his breath.

One cart slowed near the brush he was hiding in. A crackle of static broke through the walkie.

“We got one in the hold,” one of the guards said. “Picked him up earlier.” A pause, then a laugh. “Loudmouth. Real pain in the ass.”

Kang!

The cart rolled away.

Becket sprinted low through the yards and made for the building he remembered: the security headquarters. When he reached it, he counted four guards out front. Too many for him to take on alone.

He crept around the side of the building and crouched in the shrubs lining the wall. A few narrow windows gave him a sliver of a view inside. Becket rose slowly, inch by inch, until he could just see over the frame.

Kang sat slumped in a chair, wrists cuffed in front of him, his head tilted to one side. A smear of blood across his cheek, just below his eye. He wasn’t unconscious, but close. Two security guards stood nearby, talking quietly.

Becket ducked back down into the shadows and leaned against the wall, staring at the dark sky above, trying to figure out his next move. A badge flash might have worked under other circumstances, but not now. Plus, he had no jurisdiction. No legal way to act. If he was going to do anything, it would have to be quiet. Sneaky.

He peered into the window again. Kang hadn’t moved.

Then the sound of footsteps on gravel grabbed his attention. He turned just as the flashlight flared to life.

“Hands up.”

Becket froze.

44

“You have a scapegoat?” Stacks asked, brow arching.

Maddie smiled as she sat up straighter. “What if I told you there’s another player in all this?”

“Does he work for you?”

“No. And I don’t work for him either.”

Stacks frowned. “You telling me he doesn’t know he’s about to take the fall?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Maddie said. “He’ll go along with everything, right up until the moment the truth unravels. And by then, it’ll be too late.”

“And you’re one hundred percent sure there won’t be any blowback?”

“Positive.”

Stacks leaned back in his chair. “And you’re being vague for what reason?”

“You need plausible deniability.”

He glanced at Peel, who gave a tight nod. “If it works, it’s clean.”

Stacks exhaled. “All right. What do you need from us?”

“For now? Sit tight while we arrange things on our end.” She cocked her head. “Think you two can manage to not rock the boat?”

Stacks scoffed. “You just do what you need to do.”

Newport’s phone buzzed. He read the message, leaned over, and whispered something to Maddie. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes lit up.

“We’ve just had a development,” she said, facing them again. “We’ve detained another trespasser, Deputy Becket.”

Stacks let out a groan, turning toward Peel. “How the hell did he get out?”

“I locked that cage. I swear. Someone must’ve let him out.”

Maddie’s voice cut in, cool and precise. “Sheriff, I need to know I can count on you to manage your people. Right now, I’m seeing weakness.”

Stacks stiffened. “Look, we’re in this mess because of that damn girl and because you thought locking up an FBI agent was a brilliant idea⁠—”

Maddie’s palm smacked the desk, silencing the room.

“I’ve told you already. We didn’t take her,” she snapped. “And your accusations are growing tiresome.”

Stacks shoved his chair back and stood, chest puffed. Newport took a step forward, ready to intercept Stacks.

Peel caught Stacks by the shoulder, easing him back down. “Let’s not,” he muttered. Then he cleared his throat and turned to Maddie. “Ms. Bright, are there other options besides this mystery scapegoat?”

Maddie took a beat, eyeing Stacks before turning to Peel.

“Well, now that Deputy Becket’s in custody…he’s an option.”

Peel blinked. “You want to pin all of this on Becket?”

“Oh, I assumed you didn’t care who took the fall. Was I wrong?” Maddie pressed a hand to her chest with mock concern.

Stacks sat there quietly.

Peel turned to him. “Wait, you’re not actually considering this, are you?”

Stacks scratched his chin. “It is an option.”

“Becket’s been here less than a year,” Peel said. “He doesn’t have access. He doesn’t have motive. It’s not believable.”

“Excuse us a moment,” Stacks said, standing.

He and Peel stepped into a corner of Maddie’s oversize office, lowering their voices.

“We’ve got problems stacked high,” Stacks muttered. “Biggest is still the FBI.”

“I get that. But trying to frame Becket… I’m not sure that’s gonna work. He’s been with the sheriff’s department for less than a year. You really think people will believe he managed to become involved with all of this?”

“But we don’t even know who this other person is. It’s a gamble. We’re handing over complete control based on her smile and a promise.”

“I’m not saying we follow her blindly,” Peel said. “I say we let her clean up the bureau side with her mystery scapegoat, and we handle Becket ourselves. We keep that control.”

Stacks considered it, then nodded. “All right.”

They returned to their seats.

“Are you sure both men are secured?” Stacks asked.

Newport didn’t look up from his phone. “They’re breathing. That’s more than they deserve.”

The room went still for a beat. Uncertainty in the air.

Stacks finally leaned forward, hands folded. “We don’t know enough about your mystery fall guy, but we’re willing to ignore that and let you run with it. However, I’m still the sheriff, so I’ll need to be the one dealing with Becket. If we can all agree on that, we’re good to go.”

Maddie’s smile returned. “I’m glad we’re looking at the Brightside of things.”

45

I felt like I was trapped in someone else’s dream. An observer, unable to do anything as the horrors of Darkside unfolded around me. Because surely this wasn’t real. I wasn’t being kept here.

How this place had managed to exist for years was beyond me. If Kang and I had never come to Knights Ferry, if things hadn’t played out the way they did, I don’t think anyone would’ve discovered this place. It was the perfect hell, crafted by a madman.

Lucian led me out of the Offering Room and back into the maze of generic hallways. I couldn’t even fathom what was coming next, but I had a feeling it would answer the one question I still couldn’t let go of: Why would anyone agree to live here, let alone barter their own body parts?

It was a total zero-sum game. Didn’t they see that? Give away enough pieces of yourself, and eventually, there’s nothing left. How could that be considered a better way of living?

“That look on your face, Abby.” Lucian glanced at me, smiling. “You appear troubled.”

“I don’t understand how you do it,” I said. “It makes absolutely no sense for someone to sell off their own body parts like that.”

“And yet you’ve seen it firsthand.” His voice was light. Almost amused. “You find this incomprehensible because you haven’t bought into the beauty of Darkside. They have. And they’re happy to be here. I assure you of that.”

We took a stairwell down two floors and passed through another set of locked doors, flanked by armed guards. This hallway was different. It wasn’t lined with doors. Just smooth pale concrete stretching in both directions.

And then, faintly, I heard it.

Screaming.

Not someone shouting or loud conversation. This was screaming, raw and unfiltered. And not from one person.

Lucian smiled at me, eyes bright. Giddy. “We’re just in time.”

Up ahead, the hallway made a right-angle turn. As we rounded the corner, the screaming hit me. The hallway stretched ahead, open doorways lining it.

As we approached the first room on the right, I saw hand-painted writing on the wall in large red lettering: All who remain whole remain unproven.

More of Ronan’s words of wisdom, I suppose.

Lucian slowed and put his hand out to halt my pace. He motioned with his chin to look inside the room. I turned my head, and what I saw sent me reeling.

A man was tied to a rack by his arms and legs, being stretched. It screamed medieval. He cried out in agony, and then right before my eyes, both shoulders popped out of their sockets as he was pulled beyond his limits. The guards calmly reset his shoulders. Ready for more.

As much as it pained me to watch, I had to witness everything happening here. I wanted to make sure I pinned everything on Ronan. My legs carried me forward.

There was more writing on the wall near the next doorway: To suffer is to be seen. Father watches those who bleed.

Inside, three individuals were strapped down while their nails were pulled from fingers and toes. Lucian placed a hand on my shoulder. There was a large, devious smile on his face as he watched.

Lucian guided me forward, toward the last doorway, the one with the worst screams yet. They were ear piercing. Frantic.

Written on the wall near the entrance: The Bright projects the lie. The Dark reveals the truth.

A woman was strapped to a chair. Her eyelids were held open by some kind of metal device, a bright light aimed directly at them. On either side of her head were speakers, blasting a recording on repeat: All who offer, heal. All who offer, heal. All who offer, heal.

She screamed like she’d reached her limit.

I turned to Lucian. “All you’re doing is torturing people. Of course they’ll do whatever you say to make it stop.”

“When you walked through the atrium, did the men, women, or children look like they were fearing for their lives?” He tilted his head. “Did they seem sad, pained, solemn? Or were they vibrant, laughing, joking, happily enjoying their time?”

I couldn’t argue. That was what I’d seen. But something inside me rejected it. My gut told me it wasn’t real.

“You’ve drunk too much of the Kool-Aid,” I said. “You want to believe they’ve all succumbed willingly, perhaps to mask your guilt.”

“Faith and delusion often share the same face,” he said as he turned to me. “Truth is whatever comforts you most.”

46

After we left the torture rooms, I still felt like I was stuck in a fog of disbelief. The Offerings. The indoctrination. These were horrors you’d expect from a feverish nightmare, and yet they’d unfolded right before my eyes. It left me wondering how evil people could really be.

Deep down inside, I knew I had to put an end to this and take down Ronan and his gang. But acting alone, I was at a serious disadvantage. There was no guarantee Kang would find me, even with an army of feds by his side. Not unless they knew I was underground. Somehow, I’d have to find the help I needed within these walls.

Lucian walked me back to my wing and dropped me off in the lounge area next to the commissary. He seemed to have lost interest in me. No goodbye, no see you later, no call me when you get home. Just turned and walked away.

I was left there with a burning question: Why wasn’t I being indoctrinated?

It felt more like a tour than an orientation. Everyone else was being broken down. Why was I being spared?

More importantly, what was Ronan’s endgame?

I still couldn’t place my finger on what drove him. Even if he got his rocks off cutting people up, something had created that fascination.

No matter how it was spun, he was no better than a serial killer. He might not look the part at first glance, but I’d captured enough of his kind to know better. Strip away his lavish outfits, the gothic jewelry, the smug grin, and you’d see it more clearly. More Ted Bundy, less Richard Ramirez.

He probably even saw himself as another Jim Jones or David Koresh, but in the end, they all killed for their own selfish needs. Ronan was no different.

While I didn’t need to figure out who the evil dude running the place was—he’d introduced himself—I did want to confirm the why. And, of course, take him down in the process.

I looked over at the commissary. The same woman stood behind the counter, staring into the distance, her eyes locked onto nothing. I thought about questioning her again but figured I’d get nowhere unless it had to do with placing an order.

I headed back to my room. Just as I was about to enter, a door opened behind me. It was Finn’s wife, poking her head out.

“Hi, Sophia,” I said, slightly startled.

She glanced up and down the hall before shutting her door and rushing over. She grabbed my arm and pushed me into my place.

I stood by my bed, trying to make sense of it. It was clear that she wanted to talk. She shut my door, her back against it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, breathless. “I-I didn’t mean to bother you like this.”

She looked the same as before. Weak, gaunt, possibly injured, but the blank hospitality she’d shown during our first meeting was gone. This version of Sophia looked haunted.

“Sophia, is everything okay?”

“Please,” she said, voice cracking. “You have to help me. You have to help my children.”

“What’s going on?” I walked over to her. “Where’s your husband, Finn?”

She flinched. “No, you can’t let him know we spoke. Promise me. Promise!”

“Okay, okay. I promise. But you need to tell me what’s happening.”

Sophia hesitated, eyes darting to the corners of the room. She stayed near the door, like she wasn’t sure she could trust me.

“I don’t know where to start. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I know what’s going on here,” I said gently, but firm. “I know about the torture. The Offering Room. The Blessings. I’ve seen it all.”

She collapsed into me, sobbing uncontrollably. I wrapped my arms around her. She was far more fragile than I’d realized. Her clothing had masked her weight loss. I rocked gently, doing my best to comfort her as she cried tears that sounded like they’d been held back for years.

“I’m so afraid,” she choked out, eyes rimmed red. “I can’t believe it’s happening. My kids—” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

I brushed her hair from her eyes, and a few strands fell to the floor.

“I know the adults are trading their bodies for goods. What about the children?”

Sophia nodded. “Some do. But it’s their parents. They make the deals. They force them.”

My stomach turned. “Why would anyone do that to their child?”

“This place,” she said. “It drives people to the unthinkable. You can’t escape it.”

“But people don’t just lose their minds. They had morals before Darkside. How do they forget that?”

“You don’t get it. No one’s honest here. No one trusts anyone. If they think you’re planning anything, they’ll snitch. And snitching gets you Blessings.”

So, that’s how they police the place, by keeping everyone on edge. One wrong move or comment, and someone cashes in on your downfall.

“People are rewarded for turning others in?”

“Yes. And not just for rule breaking. For doubting Father. For criticizing him. Even hesitating to follow his will is a crime. The tiniest crack can be used against you.” Sophia leaned in, voice barely audible. “I came to you because you just got here. Can I trust you?”

“You can,” I said. “I’m not one of them.” I reached into my waistband and pulled out the only piece of normalcy I had left.

Sophia’s eyes widened as I showed her my ID. “Abigail Kane,” she whispered. “FBI?”

I nodded. “I came to Knights Ferry to investigate a missing person. One thing led to another, and I ended up here. I didn’t even know this place existed.”

Sophia stared at the badge a moment longer. “You have to be careful. If they find out, if Finn finds out, he’ll turn you in. Don’t think he won’t.”

“I’m not worried,” I said. “Father Dark and Lucian already know.”

“They do?” Her brow crinkled. “You’re in danger. They’ll⁠—”

“If they were going to act, they would have already. For now, I’m useful to them. That’s my advantage. But I don’t know how long it will last.” I started to pace. “This place is a maze. I’m guessing that’s intentional.”

Sophia nodded again. “It’s all designed to confuse us. Keep us compliant.”

I stopped, turning to Sophia. “You know the way out of here, don’t you? That’s why you’re here.”

Sophia glanced at the door before lowering her voice. “We have to get to the Brightside.” She pointed up with a finger.

“Brightside?” I repeated.

“We call it Brightside because it’s the surface. The opposite of this place.”

“There are two places?” I said slowly. “One above, one below.”

Sophia nodded.

Darkside…Brightside. That was when it clicked. Evie’s ramblings, the word she kept repeating. DarkBright. She was trying to tell us about this place.

“Is the Brightside the town of Knights Ferry?”

“No, it’s away from there, hidden in the woods. To outsiders, it’s known as Hillside Estates. Do you know it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. Is it a large building like this? It would stand out like a sore thumb, even in the middle of the woods. This place is humongous.”

“No, it looks like a normal gated community.”

Well, that helps explain why Kang hasn’t shown up.

“I think it’s there as a cover. To make this place seem impossible.”

“But you know the way to the top, to the Brightside?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “I’ve been watching the guards, studying their patterns. There are cameras, but they aren’t everywhere. I know the weak points and have a route to the elevator memorized.”

“But the elevator requires a key card.”

“That’s why I haven’t tried to leave yet. Maybe you can figure out how to get one.”

It was a shot in the dark, but Lucian always had one handy. “You leave that up to me.” I grabbed a pen and paper from the desk. “Can you draw a map that shows me the way out of this place?”

Sophia stiffened. Her eyes dropped to the pen, then back to me. The desperation from earlier turned to suspicion.

“No. If something happens to you, or you leave without me or get caught, I can’t risk it. I’ll tell you when it’s time. When you have the key card.”

I stared at her. “I won’t leave you behind. I promise.” The second I said it, I knew how hollow it sounded. Promise was a cheap word here, worth less than the air carrying it.

“I want to believe you. I do,” she said.

I noticed her hands trembling, and I took them gently, steadying her. “I am not a believer. I never will be.”

She studied my face, searching for a lie, one last crack in my armor to prove to herself she couldn’t trust me. I held steady, letting her decide. Finally, a small nod. “We don’t have much time.”

“What do you mean?”

Sophia’s gaze dropped, shame pooling in her eyes. “I have to make another Offering soon.”

I lifted her chin until her eyes met mine. “Don’t. Refuse it.”

Her voice cracked. “I can’t… Finn makes me.”

47

Newport escorted Stacks and Peel out of Maddie’s office.

“Have you been working with Maddie for a while?” Stacks asked, as they headed downstairs. He didn’t know much about Newport. Rarely engaged with him.

“We go back,” he said, not elaborating.

“You think this plan of hers will work?”

He stopped as he reached the front door and turned to look back at Stacks. “If she says it’ll work, it’ll work.” He pushed the door open.

“I hope it does, because it’s all of our asses on the line here. We can place blame on who did what, but in the end, we’re all connected. Unless we bury this, we’re all going down.”

Newport shut the door, locking it behind him.

Stacks found it strange that Newport wasn’t worried and continued probing. “Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

“Look, I’m aware of how fucked up the situation is. So long as you two do your part and we do ours, things should work out just fine.”

“Where exactly is Becket?” Peel asked as he hiked up his pants.

“Don’t worry, he’s locked up tight.”

Newport led them to a golf cart, and they climbed in. He set off, the whir of the battery-powered engine the only sound stirring the quiet night.

Peel glanced at his watch. “This place settles down early.”

“Doesn’t Knights Ferry?” Newport questioned.

“Sure it does, but Hillside is practically a city. We’re just a small mining town. Say, how many men do you have working for you, keeping order here?”

“Why?”

“Just curious about the manpower needed to secure Hillside.”

“I have enough to get the job done. That’s all that matters.”

“Are your men experienced?” Stacks chimed in. “A lot of retired law enforcement turn to security jobs.”

Newport didn’t answer, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“You don’t talk much, do you,” Stacks said.

“So?”

“Well, it comes across a bit harsh. Either you don’t like us much or you’re just an asshole.”

Newport looked over at Stacks with a smirk on his face. “Takes one to know one.”

“Where exactly are we heading?” Peel asked, glancing around.

They were driving down a dark road devoid of homes. Up ahead, a low building sat behind a chain-link fence. Streetlamps cast a weak glow, just enough to make out the details. Boxy ribbed metal transformers perched on concrete pads; tangled power lines stretched between towers and poles. An unmistakable electric hum carried through the air, low and constant.

Newport brought the golf cart to a stop.

“Why are we here?” Stacks asked. “I thought we were heading to your security office.”

Newport grinned. “The reason no one escapes our lockup is because it’s built underneath our little power plant. My version of Alcatraz.”

Newport unlocked the gate and led them toward a small boxy building with a single entrance. He opened the door, revealing a narrow stairwell descending into the ground.

He spoke into his walkie-talkie. “They’re here. Take them to Lockup Four.”

He turned to Stacks and Peel. “My guys will meet you at the bottom and take over from there.”

“You’re not coming?” Stacks asked.

“I need to help Maddie with our end of the plan. Don’t worry, my guys will drive you back to the front gate afterward. Go on. We don’t have all night.”

Stacks and Peel stepped inside. The stairwell was metal from floor to ceiling, lit by a line of small bulbs overhead. As soon as they started down, the door clanged shut behind them, followed by the sharp click of a lock.

They exchanged a look but kept going. At the bottom, the hallway stretched forward. It was quiet, and no guards were in sight.

“So, are we supposed to wait or keep going?” Peel asked.

“I’m tired of these damn games,” Stacks muttered, pushing ahead.

At the end of the hallway was a solid metal door. Stacks tried the handle. It was locked. Peel unhooked the baton from his belt and rapped hard against the door.

A moment later, they heard the lock click. The door creaked open to a dark room, a single figure standing in the shadows.

“Are you here to take us to our deputy?” Stacks called out, squinting into the room.

Peel flicked on his flashlight, and the beam hit something neither of them was prepared for.

Stacks took a single step back. “No, no, no. Wait a minute⁠—”

The hallway lights snapped off.

Then came the screaming.

48

“Drop the weapon!”

Becket did as he was told, then raised his arms.

“Move,” the guard behind him said. “Now!” The muzzle of a rifle dug into the area between his shoulder blades.

The front door to the security headquarters opened. A second guard waited just inside, holding it for them. The interior was clean, quiet. Desks lined one wall; maps of Hillside covered another. There were a few glass offices. It resembled the Knights Ferry station, only more modern. Upgraded.

The guard at the door stripped off Becket’s utility belt. “Newport said to put him with the other one. He also wants me to capture the reaction on camera.”

“That should be interesting.” The guard jammed the barrel into his back. “Move!”

The first guard reached for his phone and began filming. “This way,” he said flatly.

They led Becket down a short corridor toward a steel door with a glass window. The one filming stepped ahead and unlocked it. He pushed the door open and angled the phone to capture the moment. A cruel smile appeared on his face.

Becket hesitated at the threshold, just long enough to register the figure inside.

Kang.

A shove to the back sent Becket stumbling into the room. The door slammed shut behind him and locked.

Kang rose from the bench, already shaking his head as Becket got up to his knees.

“Tell me you called the number I gave you.”

Becket cleared his throat. “About that…”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I couldn’t call. The entire town has no cell service.”

Kang’s expression darkened.

“But the radio at the station still works. I left it in Deputy Appleton’s hands. She’s reaching out to your people.”

Kang took a step closer. “Can you trust her?”

“Yeah, she’s not dirty. I believe she’s on our side.”

“Believe?”

“The other deputy, Peel, is just as crooked as Stacks. He’s the one who locked me up. If it wasn’t for Appleton, I’d still be locked up. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“I hope so.”

“I’m telling you, she’s trustworthy. If she wasn’t, she’d have left me in there to rot.”

Kang nodded once, reluctantly. “Where is Stacks?”

“I’m not sure, probably here somewhere. Look, if we can just wait it out until your people arrive, we’ll be fine. I mean, how long do you think that’ll take?”

“Best case, three to five hours. Worst case, tomorrow sometime. I’m not necessarily worried about us. It’s Abby I’m concerned about. She’s been MIA since yesterday. Who knows what kind of condition she’s in.”

“Well, she’s got to be around here somewhere. She might even be in the room next door. Ever thought of that?”

Kang shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“You’re never going to believe this, but I don’t think she’s here, in Hillside.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Kang told Becket about his discovery at the rec center, a place that existed under Hillside.

“Hillside is also called Brightside. Below, buried in the ground, is a huge complex. They refer to it as Darkside,” he said.

“So that’s why Jane Doe kept saying DarkBright.”

Kang nodded.

“You believe Agent Kane is there, in Darkside?”

He nodded. “They had a model; it’s all contained in a large building. It’s completely hidden from public view. I think we have to consider it.”

“Why build underground? Do you think it’s part of Hillside? You know, like people who can’t afford to buy a home here get an apartment underground.”

“I’m not even sure it’s residential. Who knows what they’re doing there.”

“Man, that’s wild. Stacks has got to be tied into it somehow. I mean, it explains his behavior. Peel too. You know that guy’s been faking a back injury for almost a year.”

“We can’t just sit here and wait. We need to get out of this place and find a way down there.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

Becket walked over to the door and looked through the glass. “Well, unless you know how to walk through walls, I’m not sure we have a choice about staying put.”

“Are the guards out there?”

“One of them is. Looks like he’s doomscrolling on his phone. The other one might be outside.” He turned back to Kang. “Even if we could get out, we’re unarmed.”

Kang stood and walked over to the door for a look. “Yeah, but we do have one thing going for us.”

“What’s that?” Becket asked.

“These guards are amateurs, and I have a plan.”

A beat later, Kang punched Becket square in the face, sending him reeling back.

Screaming caught the guard’s attention. He looked back over his shoulder toward the hall where the holding cells are.

“What the fuck is going on back there,” he mumbled to himself.

He got out of his seat and walked over to the room. Just as he took a peek into the window, Becket’s bloody face slammed into the glass.

“Help! He’s fucking killing me!”

The guard drew his gun before unlocking the door. He pushed the door open, gun up, aiming inside. Becket was lying on the ground, curled up in a bloody mess.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked as he cautiously approached the entryway. “Where’s the other one?”

In one quick movement, a hand shot out, grabbing hold of the gun. Within seconds Kang had disarmed the guy and had the barrel of the pistol pressed into the guard’s cheek.

“Get inside,” he said in a low voice.

As soon as the guard was in the room, Kang slammed the butt into the back of the man’s head, knocking him unconscious.

Becket climbed back to his feet. “I can’t believe that worked,” he said as he touched his nose gently.

“Did I break it?”

“I don’t think so, but it hurts like hell. I thought maybe you might pull your punches a bit.”

“I had to sell it,” he said. “Grab his keys and lock the door on the way out.”

Becket did as he was told and then headed to the break room to get ice from the freezer. He later found Kang looking over assault rifles in the armory. Kang pulled out two AR-15s from the rack and handed one over.

“I’m assuming you know how to operate one.”

Becket nodded as he pressed a napkin full of ice to his nose.

“Load up on ammo. As much as you can carry.”

“You sure about this?” Becket asked.

Kang pointed to the camera in the ceiling. “The enemy is already on the way.”

By the time they reached the front door, the golf carts with armed guards were pulling up.

“Shit, that was fast!” Becket said.

They both peered out of one of the tinted windows. The entire building was surrounded by at least twenty armed men.

“Agent Kang!” a voice rang out over a megaphone. Standing next to a cart was Newport. “There’s no escape.”

“What do we do? We’re outgunned, and there’s no place to run.”

“We’re not trying to run anywhere,” Kang said as he racked the charging handle on the rifle with a sharp, mechanical snap. “We’re going to do the one thing they aren’t expecting.”

“What’s that?” Becket asked.

“Fight!”

Kang raised his rifle, took aim, and fired through the window.

49

Stacks rolled onto his side, his entire body throbbing. Pain lit up every joint. He opened his eyes slowly. As his vision cleared, he saw Peel lying a few feet away, motionless. He reached down to where he kept his weapon holstered. It was gone.

“Peel,” he croaked, his throat dry. He coughed and tried again. “Peel!”

Peel’s eyes fluttered, then snapped shut against the harsh fluorescent light overhead.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I hear you.”

“You hurt?”

“I hurt everywhere,” Peel groaned. “What the hell happened?”

Stacks rubbed his eyes with a trembling arm. He glanced down and saw burn marks on his forearm and hand.

“They used something to shock us,” he said flatly.

Peel rolled to his back with a grimace.

“She double-crossed us,” Stacks muttered. “Played us like fiddles.”

He felt like a damn fool. Sitting in her office, thinking he had the upper hand.

He’ll go along with everything, right up until the moment the truth unravels.

He could still hear her voice, smug as hell. She’d been laying the trap the whole time. And he’d walked straight into it, thinking he was the one setting the bait.

“What’s she gonna do with all of us in custody?” Peel asked, propping himself up on one elbow. “Kill us?” Peel stared at him.

“I think that’s exactly the plan.” Stacks leaned against the wall, jaw tight. “Hillside isn’t policed by us. It’s self-contained. All they have to do is cooperate with the feds, act shocked, play dumb. They’ve got the perfect cover.”

“That’s a sheriff, two deputies, and a couple of FBI agents.” Peel shook his head. “She’s insane. She won’t get away with it.”

Stacks didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at the floor. “I think we need to seriously consider that she already has.”

He scanned the room. Bare concrete walls, a single door, a fluorescent light buzzing overhead. No furniture. No windows. Just a tiny black camera in the ceiling, watching them.

Peel scooted over beside Stacks, wincing as he leaned against the wall.

“What about Appleton?” Peel said, his voice laced with hope. “She’s still free. Maybe she can help?”

Stacks chuckled, dry and bitter. “You think she’s gonna leave her cozy home and risk her retirement for us? No. We got ourselves into this. We get ourselves out.”

Peel looked around the room. “How? They took our guns.”

“I’m still the sheriff,” Stacks said. “Maddie and her Lurch-looking security goon only know what we let them know. Meaning they’ve got no idea about the backup plan coming our way.”

“But we don’t have a backup plan.” Peel froze. It clicked. A smile spread across his face. “They won’t know we’re bluffing.”

Stacks grinned. “This ain’t my first rodeo. She thinks this is over. It’s not even close.”

Just then, the door flew open.

A man stepped in wearing a tailored black suit and a red velvet cravat at his throat, with slicked-back hair. His gray eyes cut across the room like razors as he smiled.

“Who the hell are you?” Peel asked.

Both he and Stacks quickly rose to their feet.

The man didn’t answer. He calmly unbuttoned his jacket and reached inside with both hands.

What he drew weren’t ordinary knives. Each blade slid free from its leather holster with ceremonial grace.

They were long, curved like modern-day sabers, each one gleaming under the light. The handles were blackened bone, wrapped in carved thorns and crowned by a serpent. Red rubies sparkled from the butt of each handle. The craftsmanship was excessive.

Stacks and Peel both took an unconscious step back, shoes scraping softly against the floor as they edged toward the far wall. Neither spoke.

Peel’s eyes were wide, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He flicked a glance toward Stacks, looking for direction, for help.

Stacks didn’t know if it was madness or devotion, but no one carried blades like that unless they used them. A lot.

The man eyed the blade in his left hand. “This one is called Deliverance.” He lifted the right. “And this…is Sacrament. They’ve taken much,” he said, dragging the tip of one along the wall. Concrete dust flaked away in its wake. “But they’re always hungry for more.”

“Who are you?” Stacks asked, voice unsteady.

The man paused. Smiled.

“I’m Father Dark,” he growled before moving in, slashing.

50

Sophia couldn’t stick around for me to ask more questions. She didn’t want to risk being caught with me. Before she left, she simply said she’d be back in touch. Not much of a plan, but even I wasn’t sure what the next steps were.

I walked into the bathroom to freshen up, and that’s when I noticed the black dress on a hanger. Below it was a pair of black heels. There was a handwritten note pinned to the dress that read: Ronan is expecting you for a late supper. Be ready by 10 p.m.

Ten p.m.? How am I supposed to know what time it is? They took my watch.

There was an arrow drawn on the note, pointing left. I turned my head and spotted a tiny clock on the bedside table. I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d been too distracted by Sophia when I first came in. The time was 9:15.

Forty-five minutes? Even if I were entertaining Ronan’s little dinner date, that’s cutting it close.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in a while. And I needed that key card. I stripped off my clothes and hopped into the shower.

While drying off, I noticed a small makeup bag left on the sink counter. I peeked inside. It had everything I needed. My first thought: This wasn’t a date. But if Ronan wanted to play house, I’d play along. I needed that key card, and I’d use every advantage I had.

I had just applied the ruby-red lipstick when there was a quick knock on my door, followed by the handle jiggling. I’d locked it this time, knowing Lucian would try to walk in like he owned the place.

I turned to the mirror for one last look.

My hair was pulled back into a French braid, clean and tight. The low-cut dress hugged my curves, and the neckline dipped so low, my boobs were practically making their own entrance.

The makeup was over the top for my taste, but I figured Ronan would love it. Perfect.

Though this wasn’t about impressing him. This was about playing a part. Using what I had. Playing his game, just long enough to steal a piece off the board.

The door swung open, and Lucian’s scowl vanished the moment he saw me. His eyes roamed, lingering in places long enough for it to get awkward.

“Like what you see?” I asked, hand on my hip with extra sass.

Lucian choked on his answer, taking a second too long to recover. “I’m sure you have men walking into signposts when they see you. And while Ronan has a tiny crush, I, on the other hand, have no interest.”

“So, I look sexy, then?” I smiled.

He adjusted his jacket. “Come along. Supper is waiting.”

I locked step with Lucian, his two bodyguards trailing behind like silent shadows.

“Is it just Ronan and me dining tonight, or will you be tagging along as a third wheel?”

Lucian exhaled hard through his nose. “I swear, I don’t know what he sees in you.”

“Jealous much?”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “There’s nothing to be jealous over.”

“Oh wait… Do you swing the other way? It’s fine if you do. I just thought you were into women.”

“I am,” he said flatly. “Just not you.”

This time around, I did my best to pay attention to the walk we took to Ronan’s place, but it was difficult to track a path, as everything looked the same.

A short while later we arrived at Ronan’s apartment. He wasn’t there to greet me in the reception area like last time, which kind of threw me.

“Where’s the host?” I asked.

“Sit tight.” Lucian pointed to a chair and then disappeared down a hall.

I sat there, legs crossed, eyeing the extravagant artwork on the walls. Gilt-framed portraits, moody landscapes, and one abstract piece that looked like it was made of rusted blades.

I laughed a little at how trusting Lucian and Ronan were to leave me alone. Or maybe it wasn’t trust. Maybe it was arrogance.

Still, I assumed there were cameras dialed in on me. I scanned the ceiling for the black domes but didn’t see any. Maybe Ronan didn’t need surveillance in his personal space. That worked in my favor.

Across the room was the office where I’d first met with Ronan, his library-esque sanctuary. Were there extra key cards in those desk drawers?

I glanced at the hallway Lucian had disappeared down. No sounds. No return footsteps. Just silence.

I rose, slow and deliberate, my heels quiet on the carpeted floor. The dress clung to me with every step as I crossed the reception area and approached the stairs where Ronan had first made his dramatic entrance.

A small flight led up to a long hallway lined with doors. Some closed, some cracked open.

The same rich, ominous décor continued: dark wood paneling on the walls and ceilings, a Turkish runner along the floor, vases and statues displayed like artifacts, each lit like a museum piece.

No windows. Of course not.

I crept toward the first open doorway and peered inside.

It looked like a salon ripped from a gothic novel, complete with settees, ornate armchairs, velvet drapes, and a chandelier overhead dripping with crystal. A place for conversation, for guests.

Did Ronan have guests?

I moved to the next room. A music room.

In the center stood a black grand piano, polished to a mirror shine. Off to the side, of course, was a harp.

I walked over, allowing my fingers to hover for a moment before strumming a few strings.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

I spun around.

Ronan stood in the entranceway, dressed as if Armani had launched a vampire couture line. A crisp black suit, tailored to perfection. A violet cravat at his throat. On his lapel, a brooch encrusted with diamonds and rubies with the initials D and B. DarkBright, perhaps?

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he said. “Some last-minute business required my attention.”

He sat down in front of the harp and began to play. I’ll admit, I was caught off guard. The melody was eerie and gothic, and it pulled me in, lulling me into a trance. Ronan kept his eyes closed the entire time, fingers gliding across the strings like it was second nature. But the devil always watches, even when his eyes are shut.

What is your endgame, Ronan?

After a few lingering notes, he stopped, eyes still closed, as if savoring the silence.

Then he stood and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

I hesitated for only a second before slipping my hand through. If this was theater, I was committed to the role.

As we walked, I stayed close to Ronan, leaning into him like a smitten girlfriend clinging to her big, strong boyfriend. He didn’t pull away. With every step, I could feel his ego inflate.

The hallway continued, deeper into his lair-like manor until we passed through double doors and entered a formal dining room, which was extravagant beyond belief.

“I found her in the music room,” Ronan said, giving me a playful twirl as we entered.

I fell back into him as I took in the room.

A long table set for twelve. Silver cutlery gleaming under soft candlelight. Crystal goblets. Twin floral arrangements. Everything perfectly curated. I briefly wondered if other guests would be joining us.

Lucian looked up as we entered, his gaze dropping to the way I leaned into Ronan like we were a honeymooning couple in love. His mouth barely moved, but his glare said it all: contempt. He didn’t buy my act for a second, but Ronan was beaming. And that seemed to irritate Lucian to the nth degree.

“I thought I told you to sit tight,” he said as he came around the table and pulled out a chair for me. The one just left of the head seat.

“I have trouble obeying orders,” I said, sitting.

Lucian returned to his seat, directly across from me.

Of course, Ronan didn’t take a seat like we did. He paused behind the head chair, one hand resting lightly on its back, surveying the table like a stage. Then he circled around it, fingers trailing the polished wood, savoring the moment. With deliberate poise, he pulled the chair out, adjusted its angle just so, and sank into it.

Well then, let the show begin.

51

A server arrived dressed in all black and filled our glasses with red wine before placing the bottle on the table. I didn’t hesitate this time and grabbed my glass. Ronan raised his for a toast.

“To Abby, our wonderful guest. I do hope you’re enjoying your stay in Darkside.”

I smiled back at him. “It was a cheap, last-minute getaway I found on a travel app.”

“I do love that fight in you.”

We clinked glasses and sipped.

It didn’t get past me that Ronan’s chair was different from the others. It had a taller back and wider arms. It looked less like a dining chair and more like a throne. His ringed fingers rested neatly on the rounded ends, perfectly positioned for effect.

“Lucian tells me you’ve gone through our onboarding process,” Ronan said.

“You say that like we met on LinkedIn. You’re kidnapping people, torturing them, and breaking them down so much they think trading their body parts is normal.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it does take the shine off, doesn’t it?” He shot Lucian a look of mock offense.

“I assure you she received the VIP experience,” Lucian said dryly.

“Tell me, Ronan. How far underground are we?”

“Ah, so you’ve figured it out.” He turned back to Lucian. “Did you help her?”

“Surprisingly, she came to the conclusion all on her own.”

“To answer your question, fairly far. If this were the ocean, I doubt you could hold your breath long enough to reach the surface.”

Two servers appeared, one pushing a cart with a covered container. The other placed soup bowls in front of us. The first lifted the lid and ladled a deep-crimson soup into each bowl, followed by a neat dollop of sour cream in the center.

“Blood beet soup,” Ronan said. “A favorite from the old country. Blood for the body. Cream for the soul.”

Old country? What, you mean Transylvania?

I took a spoonful of the soup.

I hate to admit it, but it was delicious. Sure, I was hungry, but I had to give the chef props.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than I realized the chef was probably on borrowed time. I doubted anyone, aside from Ronan and Lucian, was exempt from Offerings.

Aside from the soft clinking of spoons and the occasional rustle of a napkin, the silence was cathedral-level.

Ronan sipped quietly.

Lucian, across from me, barely touched his bowl. He just watched me, spoon in hand, as if debating whether he should eat or keep track of every expression on my face.

As soon as we set our spoons down, servers emerged, like clockwork.

Bowls were cleared.

Clean plates were placed.

One server approached with a gleaming cart, where he began carving meat in front of us. Thick reddish slices were laid carefully onto each plate.

“Tonight, we dine on venison,” Ronan said.

Venison? Odd choice.

Alongside the meat, we were served roasted root vegetables glazed in a dark reduction and a side of wild rice laced with dried cranberries and herbs. Elegant but primal.

Ronan wasted no time. He picked up his knife and began sawing through the meat with enthusiasm. He forked a large piece into his mouth and chewed with delight.

“Venison is one of those meats that’s terribly underappreciated,” he said, already cutting another slice. “I’ll never understand why bovines get all the attention. They’re dull. Docile. Dumb. But deer? Now, they’re elegant. Quick. Alert. Exceptional hearing. Impressive vertical leap. What can a cow do besides moo?”

Another bite. His knife scraped the plate harder this time.

“You know the word venison has a fascinating origin,” he said, glancing up at me. “It comes from the Latin venari—to hunt.”

He let the word linger, then smiled.

“People forget that. They think venison is a dish, not a process. But first, there must be the hunt. A chase.”

He cut another slice, slow and deliberate.

“Only after all that do you earn the meat.”

He held my gaze as he slid another piece into his mouth, chewing slowly. His eyes dropped to my knife and fork, still untouched. It was subtle, but the message was clear: Eat!

I made a cut, brought it to my lips, and ate. Ronan nodded, clearly pleased.

“Venison is best when cooked just shy of medium rare,” he went on. “I asked the chef to go even a bit rarer than that. Just to preserve the integrity of the blood.”

He pressed his fork into the meat and a claret stain bled across the porcelain like spilled wine.

The sawing and scraping that had started out subtle had grown into a steady rhythm, a symphony of carnage. I was transfixed, disgusted, and still watching.

“The best part about venison? Sustainability, of course,” Ronan said as he eyed me, pausing his chewing for a moment. “Deer are self-managing. They thrive in the right environments. They’re not messy like cows. You can shape their population and adjust it as needed.”

He placed another dripping piece into his mouth.

I looked over at Lucian.

He hadn’t touched any of his meat. Instead, he sipped his wine, slow and deliberate, the bob of his Adam’s apple rising with each swallow.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lip, signaling his amusement. This dinner was just as much for him as it was for Ronan.

His eyes flicked between Ronan and me. He wasn’t listening but studying my reaction. Watching to see how I handled a peek behind the curtain.

My gaze returned to Ronan as he continued his lecture on the superiority of venison over beef. I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t a conversation about meat at all.

Maybe Ronan wasn’t talking about deer. Maybe he was talking about us.

Dessert, of course, continued the theme. We were served a blood orange tart: delicious, but more than enough blood for one evening.

Full and dangerously comfortable, I leaned back in my chair. “What’s next? Cigars and hundred-year-old scotch?”

Ronan folded his napkin and smiled. “Under normal circumstances, I’d say yes. But tonight, we have something special planned.”

At that moment, the double doors creaked open behind me.

I turned to see three people glide in. One with a violin, the next with a cello, and a third with what looked like a bandoneon.

They took their places against the wall, no words, just tuning and readiness.

“A bit of music,” Ronan said. “To help us digest.”

He stood and offered his hand. “Dance with me?”

Before I could answer, he was already pulling my chair out.

“I’m not really⁠—”

“You’ll do fine.”

The moment we touched, it was clear he’d done this before.

One hand found my waist, the other lifted mine gently. The heels brought me closer, just below his eyes.

Then the music began, slow and haunting, a tango drenched in tension.

Ronan led with precision, each step sharp and smooth, his body radiating control.

He moved like the room was his stage and I was just another piece of choreography.

He turned me, dipped me—not too low, but enough to make my pulse skip. He held my gaze like it was giving away all my secrets.

“You move well,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine. “But you hold back. Afraid of letting go?”

“I’m more afraid of falling,” I said.

“The tango is a dance that exudes love and passion.” He pulled me in close, pressing me tight against him as he spun us in a slow, controlled circle. “It thrives on closeness. On trust. That’s how the emotional bond forms.”

He spun me again, sharper this time. I stumbled slightly, catching myself against his chest. His hand pressed to the small of my back—firm and possessive. His breath was warm against my cheek.

Then he leaned in, brushing the edge of my lips with his. Just briefly. “It’s about connection.”

The music. The dancing. The way his hand fit perfectly against the small of my back like it belonged there. This was not how psychopaths behaved.

I couldn’t help but stare into his eyes, as if we were the only two people in the room. The magnetic pull was beyond anything I’d experienced.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he said. “A stirring inside you… The bandoneon will do that. It’s referred to as the instrument that cries, as it often evokes deep emotions.”

I’d seen men like Ronan before: cold, methodical, precise in their cruelty. But none of them had ever waltzed me across a marble floor, whispering about emotional bonds like we were in some twisted fairy tale.

He spun me again, and I let him. Not because I wanted to. Because I needed to understand the monster I was dealing with.

Those pale-gray eyes pressed into me, overwhelming. It felt like he was dissecting me, slowly, piece by piece. Was this seduction or a hunter analyzing his prey?

The music faded, and Ronan brought us to a graceful stop.

“Bravo!” Lucian called out, clapping. “A magnificent performance.”

Ronan offered his arm, escorting me back to my seat with the charm of a practiced gentleman. He sat, lifted his glass, and took a slow sip of wine.

“I’m having so much fun,” he said with a wistful smile, “it’s a shame it must come to an end.”

“Is it past your bedtime?” I asked.

“Tonight calls for something special.” He adjusted his cuff link with ceremonial precision. “You’ve heard of midnight mass?”

He paused just long enough for tension to coil in my chest.

“Tonight,” he said, voice smooth, “we have what I like to call…a midnight Offering.” Then he looked directly at me, smiling. Allowing a pause for dramatic effect, no doubt. “And you, my darling, will be offering everything you have.”

I didn’t get it at first.

Then the doors burst open, and armed guards stormed in. My chair toppled backward as I sprang to my feet.

One guard lunged. I dropped him with a sucker punch, clean and fast. He crumpled.

Another rushed me. I swept his legs, sent him crashing down.

A third came from the side, and I caught him with a throat punch. He staggered back, gagging, eyes wide.

But the numbers caught up.

They grabbed my arms, tried to wrestle me down.

“Let go of me!”

I twisted, bucked, stomped. My heel caught one in the shin, and he yelped in pain. But there were too many. Hands closed in. Ronan’s men had me.

Lucian clapped enthusiastically. “An outstanding encore!”

My chest heaved as I locked eyes with Ronan, heels skidding across the floor as they dragged me toward him.

“Don’t fight it, Abby,” he said, voice calm—gleeful, even—as he gently caressed my cheek with his finger. “Tonight, you’re the gift. My devoted followers will be blessed, their coffers replenished…all thanks to you.”

52

Kang dropped down below the shot-out window for cover as he expelled his used magazine and popped in a fresh one. Bullets flew overhead, shredding the office to pieces. The drywall was chewed up, paperwork from the desks exploded into confetti, a coffee mug shattered.

Becket fired out the window until he emptied his mag, then dropped down next to Kang.

“We’re outnumbered,” he shouted. “And I just popped my last mag into my rifle.”

“There’s more in the armory,” Kang said. “Those guys out there, they’ve got limited ammo.”

“We keep shooting until they run dry?”

“For now.” Kang popped back up and resumed firing.

Becket dropped to his stomach and shimmied over to the small armory. As he reached up and grabbed boxes of bullets off the shelving unit, Kang appeared next to him. “Throw me a couple boxes!”

Becket grabbed more boxes, but when he turned back around to hand them to Kang, he was focused on something on the floor.

“Look at this. It’s a hatch.” Kang studied it for a moment. “Back away.” He fired a single shot and blew the padlock off the hatch.

“Help me move the shelving.”

They got to their knees and dragged the unit just far enough to expose the trapdoor. Kang pulled it open. A ladder disappeared into a tunnel.

Three smoke bombs crashed through the shattered windows, clattering across the floor. Smoke hissed and spread fast, burning their eyes and choking their lungs.

“Go! Go!” Kang shouted as he laid down suppressive fire.

Becket descended first. Kang followed, pulling the hatch shut behind him.

Becket waited at the bottom. “It’s a tunnel.”

“Only one way to go,” Kang said, taking the lead.

They hurried through the tunnel. The air was cold and stale. No pooled water. No rats. Just narrow concrete walls and lightbulbs spaced every ten feet.

“It looks maintained,” Becket said.

They kept moving until the passage split into a T-intersection. Both directions looked identical.

“Now what?” Becket asked. “It’s a crapshoot.”

Kang raised a hand. “You hear that?” he whispered.

“Hear what?”

“Exactly. Nothing. They should’ve breached the office by now.”

“Shit. Maybe they know something we don’t. What if this tunnel’s a death trap? Like it floods with water?”

Kang raised an eyebrow. “You watch too much Mission: Impossible.”

“Well, if they’re not chasing us, maybe we wait and climb back up.”

“And get shot the second we poke our heads out? No, thanks. We keep going, because what we’re doing here”—Kang gestured—“this is buying time until backup arrives.”

He moved to the middle of the junction, closed his eyes, and listened. Then he crouched low, palm hovering near the tunnel floor. A faint draft kissed his skin, coming from the left.

“This way,” he said, already moving.

Becket walked a few steps behind Kang, constantly glancing back over his shoulder. “Hey, is it just me, or are we now walking down a slight grade?” Becket said.

“I noticed.”

Kang stopped suddenly, and Becket bumped into him.

“What is it?”

“There’s a stairwell up ahead. It leads down.”

“Hate to break it to you, but shouldn’t we be trying to go up?”

“No. Abby’s someplace underground. Down here somewhere.” He raised his rifle and moved carefully until he reached the top of the stairwell. He peered down, and it looked endless.

“That’s deep,” Becket said, leaning over his shoulder.

“Yeah, it is.” Kang pulled out his phone and opened the photos he’d taken of the model in the office.

Becket leaned in. “Sheesh. That thing is massive. You mean to tell me this monstrosity is built underneath Hillside?”

“I’m guessing we’re at the top, and these stairs are the way into it.”

“We have no idea what’s down there. She could still be up top.”

“You’re right. And I’m right. We don’t know where Abby is, but my gut is telling me she’s down there.”

Kang pointed to a small black dome in the ceiling corner. “Plus, they already know we’re here.”

They stood in silence for a moment, then Kang started down.

For the next thirty minutes, Kang and Becket descended flight after flight of stairs. The structure was industrial and stark, and the deeper they went, the more the air cooled. The concrete steps echoed under their boots, creating a hypnotic rhythm. It felt like they were walking on a real-life Penrose staircase, repeating and endless. Eventually the stairwell bottomed out at a heavy reinforced door.

“If that thing’s locked, it’s gonna suck climbing back up,” Becket muttered. “We must be a hundred yards below ground.”

Kang grabbed the handle and gave it a yank. The door groaned and shifted a few inches, scraping against the floor.

“Help me,” Kang said.

Both men grabbed hold and muscled it open just wide enough to squeeze through. On the other side, a short stairwell led to another metal door, already ajar. They passed through and found themselves in a tunnel lined with thick pipes and bundled wiring.

“Looks like a maintenance hall,” Becket said.

As they walked, there were noticeable signs of life. The odd broom leaning against the wall, a trash can, even a hand truck.

Becket bent down and picked up what looked like part of a wrapper. “Darkside Chocolate. We’re getting warmer.”

Up ahead, they came upon a large container on wheels with MEDICAL WASTE stenciled on the outside.

“What do you make of that?” Becket asked.

“I’m not sure.”

They continued, slower now, following the lightbulbs that cast harsh pools of light every ten feet or so. Up ahead, Kang spotted an open entranceway on the right. He raised his rifle and approached quietly.

The plop, plop sound of something dripping into water became clearer as they neared the opening. Kang flattened against the wall, sidestepping closer, listening for motion. But there was nothing. Just that steady wet sound.

He nodded at Becket. Becket nodded back.

Kang waited a beat and then swung around the corner, rifle up, ready to fire. But he froze, his breath catching.

Becket followed and immediately recoiled, tripping backward and landing hard on his butt. His hands flew up like a shield. A broken cry escaped him. “No, no, no…”

Hanging from the wall were Stacks and Peel. Naked and nearly unrecognizable pieces of flesh strung up like meat.

Their arms were stretched above them, wrists cuffed and chained to the ceiling. Their eyes were gone, nothing but hollow black sockets with dried blood trailing down their cheeks. Their mouths gaped in mid-scream. Their chests had been opened, ribs cracked and peeled back like a butcher’s display, revealing a hollowed-out cavity.

Below them, a pool of blood had gathered. It was deep, dark, and thick in parts, reflecting the ceiling lights in sickly glints.

Plop.

Becket turned away, gagging. He hunched over, one hand on the floor, the other over his eyes, as if he could wipe the image from his brain.

Kang didn’t move. He just stared, his rifle lowered, arms by his sides, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the twitch in his cheek.

Another drop fell.

Plop.

53

Becket had just finished decorating the corner of the room with whatever was left in his stomach. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hesitant to turn around and face what had pushed him over the edge.

When he finally mustered up the nerve, he found Kang standing near the pooled blood, looking up at the bodies.

“They were alive no more than two hours ago,” Becket said as he stepped up beside him, still looking a little green in the face. “You think Maddie’s responsible for this? Maybe she wanted us to find them…you know, to send a message.”

“It’s possible we were next,” Kang said.

“I don’t get it. How does killing us all help them?”

Kang didn’t answer. He moved closer, stepping around the coagulated blood, eyes scanning the corpses. “This was intentional.”

“Killing them? No shit.”

“I’m talking about their organs.” He motioned toward the gaping torsos. “They’ve both been emptied—eyes, lungs, stomach, liver, intestines. Everything.”

Becket grimaced. “So, whoever did this…they’re keeping souvenirs?”

Kang stepped closer to Stacks’s body. Then circled to Peel. “No ligature marks. No signs they were bound. But there are defensive wounds on their arms.” Kang’s eyes narrowed. “Peel’s young and fit. Stacks not feeble. They could’ve fought back successfully if it was two against one.”

Becket frowned. “Ambushed, perhaps with rifles pointed at their heads.”

“Maybe. But something’s off.” Kang stepped back beside him. “And that’s what has me wondering if Maddie’s really behind this.”

Becket raised a brow. “Then who?”

“She always claimed she doesn’t have Abby and hasn’t seen her. She’s been consistent with her story.”

“You actually believe that?”

“I believe she’s hiding something. But this?” Kang gestured to the bodies. “This feels like someone else’s work. A separate hand.”

“You think there’s another player? Someone running the show down here?”

He nodded. “Maddie could be in charge of Brightside. Maybe there’s someone just like her running Darkside.”

Becket scratched at his jaw, eyes scanning the room again. “Shit, it’s totally possible. I mean, it doesn’t even look like people live down here.”

“But they’re here,” Kang said. “You saw the trash cans, the candy wrapper, the carts. Someone’s using this place. We just haven’t found them yet.”

Kang moved toward the door, silent. He paused at the threshold, gaze fixed ahead. His voice dropped. “We’ve definitely crossed over”—he took one cautious step into the hallway, eyes sweeping both directions—“into the Darkside.”

Becket joined him, glancing up at the black camera dome blinking in the corner. “You think the welcome committee is on its way?”

“If they are,” Kang said, “they’re sure taking their time.”

They moved deeper into the corridor, passing beneath another flickering bulb until they reached a T-intersection. Both passageways curved out of view, vanishing into shadow.

Kang raised a hand. “Stay here. Watch my six.”

Becket nodded, keeping his rifle close.

Kang headed left, steps light, breath held, ears tuned for the slightest sound. At the bend, he paused, pressed his back against the wall, then edged forward and peeked around the corner. Nothing. Just more hallway, ending in a closed door.

He turned and headed back, ready to signal Becket. Only Becket wasn’t there.

The hallway was empty.

54

Sophia stood in the bedroom, folding clothes slowly, some more than twice, anything to keep herself busy. Across the room, she watched Finn play with the kids in the living room.

They laughed. Giggled. Everything looked normal. They were playing their favorite game. One Finn had made up and called Take Me.

“Take me!” her daughter shouted, pointing to her belly.

Finn’s smile widened as he reached out and pretended to snatch something from her. He slipped the imaginary piece into his pocket and made a show of patting it like a prize.

Her son, Henry, squealed and pushed in front of Carrie. “My turn!”

Sophia didn’t move. Her arms hung at her sides, a half-folded shirt dangling from her hands.

That same practiced smile remained, a full Cheshire slash. A single bead of sweat ran down the side of his neck, cutting through the perfect image. Then barely a glance in her direction. Just long enough to send the message Don’t say a word.

Her stomach twisted. Every part of her body screamed to run, to grab her children. But she stood there, helpless. Pretending everything was fine.

Because that’s what was expected.

He was grooming them.

It looked like play. It sounded like play. But it was conditioning. Normalizing the idea of giving up parts of themselves. And the worst part was, they loved it. Carrie, just five, was all giggles and hugs. She was so sweet and untouched by the sickness down here. Sophia knew it wouldn’t last.

Henry was seven, soon to be eight. Bright, inquisitive, but already mimicking his father’s gestures and phrases. He even laughed like Finn now and quoted Father Dark during mealtime prayers.

But Sophia would whisper her own lessons to him when she could, trying to undo the damage without getting caught. He could be so much more than Finn. But not if he stayed here.

Sophia knew Finn’s plan, even if he never said it. He’d drain her organ by organ until there was nothing left. Then he’d move on to the kids, bartering them piece by piece to collect Blessings. To save himself.

He was a devil in coward’s clothing. A man so weak, he’d carve up his own children to stay alive and in Father Dark’s favor.

With the food in their cupboards running low, Finn had spent the last few days pressuring Sophia to make another Offering. She’d already given up a kidney. The only organs left in pairs were her eyes. He wanted both but would gladly settle for one.

Sophia couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her children again.

Where is Agent Abby? she wondered. I hope she’s found the key.

She’d been stalling, making excuses to delay their visit to the Offering Room. But Finn’s patience was thinning. And Sophia was running out of time.

In the beginning, Finn had proposed they take turns. “We’ll stretch it out longer that way,” he’d said. “We’ll survive.”

And at first, Sophia believed him.

But everything changed once he attended the teachings regularly. He started quoting Father Dark in casual conversation and called the sacrifices Offerings.

Suddenly, there was always a reason it had to be her. She was stronger. She recovered faster. It wasn’t the right time for him. The kids needed him alert, steady.

Excuses, always.

Sophia wanted to trust the father of her children. She wanted to believe that he would do his part. That he still saw her as his equal.

But the truth became undeniable. He’d turned.

The beatings had also become more frequent. At first, he’d strike where no one could see. Bruises hidden beneath sleeves and collars. But as her condition worsened after the Offerings, Finn cared less and less about hiding the evidence. It was no longer about discretion. It was about control.

To Sophia, Finn was nothing but a spineless bastard. A self-serving parasite who cloaked his fear in devotion. A man so desperate to survive, he’d barter away his own wife and then their children, piece by piece.

Even sharing a bed had become unbearable. His warmth used to comfort her. Now it made her skin crawl. Worse were the nights he reached for her. When she had to pretend to want him.

His grunting.

His hot breath in her ear.

The way he’d lick her neck, leaving a slick trail.

She would lie there, staring at the ceiling, willing the universe to smite him. Let him have a heart attack. Right here. Right now. On top of me.

He always finished inside her every time, whispering prayers to Father Dark, hoping for a child who could serve as another pawn to extend his life.

But Sophia had taken one precaution he never knew about. Before they moved to Darkside, she’d quietly gotten an IUD. It was the only choice she’d made for herself in a long time. She’d die before she gave him another child to barter.

But a faint light flickered at the end of a long, black tunnel. All she needed was for Agent Kane to come through. And when she did, Sophia would get her children out.

No matter what it cost.

55

Kang hurried back to the T-intersection. Becket wasn’t in the former hallway. He rounded the other bend and saw that it also ended in a door. He tried it, but it was locked.

What had happened to him? Was he taken, or did he wander off on his own?

Dammit! Kang could’ve kicked himself in the ass. He should’ve kept a better eye on Becket. Green or not, he needed him. He’d been someone trustworthy to watch his back. Now he had an open flank and needed to find him and Abby.

There wasn’t much Kang could do at that moment. He had to continue looking for Abby. He had to hope Becket could take care of himself in the meantime. But based on his earlier mishaps—getting locked up, losing the phone number he had given him—Kang wasn’t very hopeful. He made his way back to the other bend, only to now find the door cracked open.

That’s it. Someone wanted us separated. Someone is pulling the strings.

He walked through the doorway and found himself in a brightly lit, clean industrial hallway lined with doors. The walls gleamed. The floors shone like they’d just been polished. He tried the doorknob closest to him. It was locked. So was the next.

He moved down the hallway slowly. Just the soft scrape of his shoes against tile.

It was sterile and still. Nothing like Hillside. This place had to have another overseer. She and Newport had kept talking about another mystery person.

Was that person in charge here?

Kang continued, running through possibilities of what this place could be.

A drug operation bubbled to the top. The layout was clean and controlled, like a manufacturing facility. The Mexican cartels had the money and the muscle to fund something like this. Hell, they were always looking for new ways to traffic product. Could this be it? A secret lab buried beneath an idyllic mountain town? Were these locked rooms stocked with drugs?

Still, something about this place bothered the heck out of him. The eerie silence. The streamlined perfection. It felt less like a lab and more like a waiting room for something terrible. And if it were cartel-run, Kang would have been confronted long ago.

He glanced down and noticed a single tile scuffed near the baseboard. Just one. Like someone had kicked a boot once. Everything else was pristine.

He tried another door. Locked. Was Abby behind that one? He had always pictured her alone and in the dark, stumbling through the woods, cold and hungry. But this? He had a hard time wrapping his head around it. He exhaled slowly and kept moving.

Up ahead, the hallway ended with a closed door. He walked toward it, expecting it to be locked like the others. But it opened into a stairwell.

He had a choice here. Up or down. He considered his options for a moment before heading down, even if the thought of heading farther underground bothered him.

The stairwell ended on another landing, with yet another door. He opened it cautiously and peeked through. What he saw looked identical to the last hall. The only difference was a slight bend to the left in the corridor.

He stepped inside.

Is this all this place is? A series of hallways and rooms?

He moved toward the bend. His rifle by his side, eyes scanning, ears listening. A mechanical click echoed.

He slowed and lightened his steps as he rounded the corner. Up ahead, he saw something he’d never expected. Something that stopped him cold.

56

The little boy appeared out of nowhere. One minute Becket was watching Kang’s back; the next, a smiling little kid was standing at the other bend in the hallway. Of all the people he expected to encounter down here, a child was dead last.

“Hey, buddy, where did you come from?”

The boy giggled and took off around the bend. Becket followed, catching sight of him standing in front of a closed door at the end of the hall.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” Becket said, slowing his approach.

The boy grabbed the door handle and slipped halfway inside. He turned back to Becket, lifted a hand, and waved. Becket froze.

The boy had no fingers.

A beat later he disappeared. Becket hurried, catching the door before it could close, and slipped through. On the other side was a bright tiled hallway lined with closed doors. At the far end, running and giggling, was the little boy. Becket chased after him. The boy stopped and entered one of the doors, vanishing from sight.

When Becket reached the door, he found it locked. He knocked. “Hey, buddy. It’s me. Are you going to let me in?”

There was no answer, so he placed his ear against the door and listened. Only the faint buzz of an electric current could be heard.

Becket took a moment, wondering if he had imagined it all. This place was really starting to play with his head. Was there really a kid running around this place with all five fingers missing from his hand?

Not wanting to lose Kang, he hurried back to the door that he had passed through but found it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. He didn’t recall seeing a lock on the other side. How could this be possible? Were these doors electronically locked? He looked up at the ceiling until he spotted the black dome, watching.

He turned on his heels and headed back down the hall, checking every doorknob he passed. At the end of the hall was a door. Becket turned the handle, and the door opened.

He stepped inside a stairwell and headed down. As he descended, he peered over the railing at the descending steps and felt a heaviness in his stomach. Ever since he’d gotten lost in a cave as a little boy, descending into anything smelling of the unknown gave him the willies.

When he reached the landing below, he exited the stairwell and stepped into a hall identical to the one he had just left, but this hall had a bend to the right, limiting his view ahead.

Becket checked the first doorknob and found it unlocked. The door swung open, revealing an empty room. No furnishings. Just four white walls, lights above, and a vent in the ceiling blowing air. As he stood in the room, the sound of a door slamming shut made him jump. He hurried back out and stared into an empty hallway.

“Anyone there?” he said with a slight hesitation. Becket swallowed. He had heard the door.

He continued testing doorknobs and eventually found one unlocked. He pushed the door open and immediately recoiled.

On the floor was a large bloodstain. The walls were also streaked with crimson, the pattern unmistakably spatter. The smell hit next. That raw metallic tang of blood.

The stains weren’t old either.

He immediately thought back to Stacks and Peel. Were they last alive here?

Becket stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. As he inched around the bend, he slowed his steps and raised his rifle.

Was that laughter he heard in the distance or more of his wild imagination taking over? Becket leaned against the wall and slowly made his way around the bend. The light above flickered and buzzed for a moment before returning to normal.

He heard a woman’s voice. It was soft and distant. He inched his way around the bend. When he finally rounded the corner, he froze in his tracks.

57

The security detail escorting me didn’t hold back. They pushed and yanked. One even threw a punch to the back of my head. No more pleasantries. I assumed they were taking me to the Offering Room, where I was expected to sacrifice myself.

Two held me tight by the arms, like I might throw elbows and make a run for it, which was a fair assumption. I was walking barefoot, as the guard whose shin I’d stabbed with my heel had thrown my shoes away. The third walked ahead of us. He was the oldest and appeared to be the ringleader.

He kept glancing back, motioning with his hand to keep pace. He smiled every time our eyes met.

At some point, the plush carpets and paneled walls had given way to the sterile corridors that defined most of Darkside. I assumed we’d left Ronan’s private residence.

We passed through a series of doors and took stairs, even a short elevator ride. Then a long hallway led us to a pair of closed doors. It was a longer walk than I remembered.

“Aren’t we going to the Offering Room?” I asked. No answer.

We passed through the doors and stepped into something familiar: carpeted floors and wood-paneled walls. Between each panel were paintings with heavy gold frames and dramatic brushwork. Were we back in Ronan’s place?

Had we just walked in one big circle? I honestly didn’t know. Maybe that was the point: to keep me off balance. My attention turned to the paintings.

One showed a woman offering her severed tongue in cupped hands. Another, a man with a scalpel, eyes bloodied but expression peaceful. A third showed a woman, arms outstretched, presenting a bundle wrapped in cloth stained red.

Each painting had a plaque below it:

Hush Offering.

Blind Faith.

Mother’s Gift to Father.

The paintings continued, each one more twisted than the last, until we stopped in front of a pair of oversize wooden doors veined with gold trim. A black metal plaque was bolted above them, the words carved deep and polished to a mirror shine:

THE CHAMBER OF THE GIVEN

I looked at the plaque, then at the guy in front. “What’s the Chamber of the Given?”

“It’s where the worthy are housed,” he answered, surprising me. “Do you think you’re worthy, Agent Kane?”

I didn’t answer. But I thought about throat punching him.

He pulled the doors open, and I stepped into a large rotunda. The ceiling rose in a perfect dome, painted with sweeping, muted frescoes lit by strategically placed spotlights. More of the same imagery I’d seen in the hallway.

The pale stone walls curved in a perfect circle, streaked with gray. Between evenly spaced pillars hung tall paintings, framed like icons in a chapel.

The lighting was warm, precise, and curated like a museum, guiding your eyes from piece to piece. No visible fixtures. Just a soft golden glow that seemed to come from nowhere.

The floor changed beneath my feet. Cold marble now, pale and polished. A circular inlay stretched out beneath me: rings carved in tight spirals, all pulling inward toward a blackened center.

The two guards let go of my arms, and I rubbed one, as it had started to go numb.

“Feel free to look around,” the leader said. “See what we hold sacred.”

The rotunda was also lined with hundreds of painted portraits. I stepped in closer for a better look.

Each portrait had a name: first name and last initial with a date beneath it. They weren’t medieval saints or religious figures. These individuals looked modern, very normal. People you’d see in line at the DMV or sitting across from you at a fast-food joint. At first, I couldn’t quite understand why.

And then it clicked.

This place was a memorial. A shrine to the fallen. These portraits represented the ones who’d given everything they had, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to give. They were Ronan’s victims.

Hundreds of them had willingly died a slow death.

A spotlight near the back of the room caught my eye. There was an object inside a large display case, lit from multiple angles like it was the featured exhibit.

I walked toward it, slowly.

It looked leathery. I thought maybe it was clothing. Like armor for a soldier. Until I realized it wasn’t. It was a mummified body. Or what was left of one. The head and torso remained, though the head was shrunken a bit. The arms were gone. So were the legs. The torso was hollowed out, just skin stretched over an empty frame, made up of the bones of the rib cage and wires. The eyes were missing. The ears too. The mouth hung open, propped wide like he was still screaming.

“We call him the First Given,” the leader said, suddenly beside me. “He’s the most honored among everyone here. The one who was brave enough to show us the way.”

His eyes lingered on the hollowed torso with something close to admiration.

“Honored?” I said. “These people are victims of a deranged psychopath.”

He didn’t react. Just stood there with a peaceful expression, lost in the spell of the place, the grotesque. I glanced over my shoulder. The other two were under the same trance.

I wasn’t restrained, and no one was watching me closely. Big mistake.

I swung, fast and hard.

A clean left hook caught the head guard square on the jaw. His legs folded, and he dropped to the floor. A thud echoed across the rotunda, and a second later, his rifle was in my hands.

I spun around and fired into the chest of the nearest guard, three shots. His body jolted, then fell backward against the marble. The third one managed to raise his rifle and return fire just as I dove behind the nearest pedestal.

Glass shattered as I hit the ground. Something dry and shriveled had fallen and rolled to a stop against my foot. I stared, and realized it was a heart. A mummified one.

My escape was happening now, whether I was ready or not.

I scrambled away from the glass, ducked behind the next pedestal, rose halfway, and returned fire. He was quick, already ducking behind another display near the far side of the rotunda.

We traded shots, neither of us landing anything solid, but I could see what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to take me out; he was trying to get to the door. If he made it out, he’d lock me in here as he went for backup. I’d lose if that happened.

I moved low and fast, weaving between display cases on stone platforms as more gunfire erupted. Glass exploded behind me. Stone chips grazed my cheek. The chamber’s acoustics magnified every shot, each one piercing my ears. But I stayed on him, firing, until my gun ran dry.

He took advantage of that and broke from cover, sprinting the last few feet toward the exit.

I gave chase, caught up, and barreled into him from behind. The hit jarred every inch of me, as we both tumbled hard across the floor.

He scrambled up on his hands and knees, crawling for the door. I grabbed his ankle and yanked. He kicked violently, one heel catching my shoulder. Pain flared up my neck, but I dodged the next one and yanked again, dragging him back. I climbed over his legs, hammering his kidney with a chunk of broken stone. He screamed, twisting beneath me as I clawed my way higher, still pummeling him.

Suddenly, he twisted and flipped me off, sending me rolling. Before I could recover, he slammed a hard left hook into the side of my head. My vision swam, and he was on me quickly.

I threw up both arms, tangling with his, blocking his follow-up strikes. We grappled, fists flying in close quarters. I grabbed him by the groin and squeezed hard. His face twisted in pain.

My forehead slammed into his nose. A crunch, followed by a high-pitched scream. I didn’t let up. I swung my body behind him, hooked my arm around his neck, and yanked back.

He was in full panic as he realized that I had him in a solid choke hold. He flailed, wild fists and legs kicking air, until eventually his kicks slowed, his punches turned into a wave hello, and he went still.

The room fell silent again. Just the soft hum of the spotlights overhead.

I moved fast, checking all three guards for ammo. Only one carried an extra mag. I’d have to make it work. One had a small satchel slung across his chest—I grabbed it. All of them had key cards, and I took them. Then I turned and left the rotunda behind.

All right, Sophia. Time to go.

58

“Now? Of all times, she picks now to visit?”

Ronan paced at the head of the dining table, disappointment etched across his face.

“She’s being led here as we speak,” Lucian said, lifting his glass of wine and taking a sip without looking up.

Ronan dropped into his chair with a sigh, slinging one leg over the armrest like a bored teenager. “I’m in the middle of something, and she’s spoiling all the fun.”

Lucian didn’t blink. “We’ll hear her out and then send her on her way. Abby’s not going anywhere.”

Ronan tilted his head back, looking at Lucian upside down. “You know I never go up there unannounced.”

“You don’t like it up there.”

“Regardless. If I did, I’d still send notice. This is about respecting boundaries. Consent. Just because she knows the way down here doesn’t give her free rein.”

Just then, the doors to the dining room opened. Two armed guards stepped inside, followed by Maddie and Newport.

Ronan pulled his leg down, rose from the chair, and straightened his jacket. Whatever irritation he’d shown before vanished, replaced by a warm, thin smile.

“Maddie. I’m afraid you just missed dinner. We had venison tonight.” He pantomimed a chef’s kiss.

Maddie placed a hand over her chest in an exaggerated swoon. “I’m heartbroken.”

“Perhaps you’ll join us for a drink?”

Her eyes drifted around the dining room. “Why do you insist on being so dark about everything? You really should add some color. A splash of yellow wouldn’t kill you.”

Lucian stepped in smoothly, pouring wine into two glasses without a word. He handed one to Maddie, one to Newport.

Newport accepted his with a slight nod but didn’t drink. His eyes moved slowly across the room, pausing briefly on each of the three entryways.

Ronan held his smile. “Well, you know me. Overseer of the Darkside. Bright colors wouldn’t be a good look.”

He gestured toward two empty chairs. “Sit.”

He lowered himself back into his seat. “What brings you all the way down here?”

Maddie smoothed her jacket before sitting. “Ronan, don’t pretend you don’t know. This situation is slipping out of control.”

Ronan glanced over at Lucian. “Are we slipping?”

“If we are, I’m unaware.”

He turned back to Maddie with an innocent look. “I think I need you to elaborate.”

She sighed, not out of exasperation but as a reset. Keeping herself civil. Playing the role with Ronan was draining at times. But despite their differences, they had always maintained a certain decorum. That didn’t mean she trusted him. Just that she respected the rules of the game.

“The FBI agents,” she said. “You’ve had the woman long enough. She’s not your personal experiment.”

Ronan gave a lazy shrug. “That’s debatable. But I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll resolve it. I always do.”

“It’s not just her. She has a partner. A tenacious one.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Ronan said, reaching for his wine. “And last I heard, he was in your custody. Or have I been misinformed?”

Maddie shifted slightly in her seat.

Ronan paused, glass hovering near his mouth.

“Do I sense a but coming?” he asked, swirling the wine in his glass.

“It’s unfortunate,” Maddie said, steady but clipped. “Agent Kang managed to escape my men.”

Ronan arched an eyebrow. “Escape? That doesn’t sound like you, Maddie. You pride yourself on having top-notch security.”

His gaze shifted to Newport, long enough for the table to notice. Newport squirmed slightly in his seat, saying nothing.

Ronan leaned forward. “But as we’re here to help each other solve problems, I’m pleased to inform you, I was already aware. He’s here now.” He winked at Maddie.

“Where?”

Lucian answered before Ronan could. “My men are en route to apprehend him.”

“He’s wandering around?” Maddie asked, incredulous. “Freely?”

Ronan leaned back slightly, unbothered. “Come now, Maddie. You know how this place is designed.” He smiled. “It’s a maze, yes. But with the grip of a Venus flytrap.”

Ronan raised his glass again, riding the high of dominance yet still playing the part of the generous host. The twinkle hadn’t faded. If anything, it burned brighter, radiating smugness. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the doors burst open.

One of his guards stumbled in, out of breath, with panic on his face. “She’s gone,” he said. “Agent Kane escaped.”

The room fell silent. Ronan didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. The twinkle in his eye flamed out, replaced by something darker.

He stared straight ahead, the glass still lifted, still full of wine. Then, slowly, deliberately, his fist tightened.

The stem cracked once. Pop!

It splintered in his grip, and red ran between his fingers. Wine or blood, it was hard to tell.

His breathing shifted to a sharp inhale, followed by a sharper exhale.

Then, without warning, he stood, chair scraping hard against the stone. He closed the distance in two fast steps. His hand shot forward and clamped around the guard’s throat. The man didn’t even have time to cry out.

The guard struggled briefly, his windpipe crushed. The only sounds were the struggle of his shoes against the floor and the rustling of his clothes as his body fought what it couldn’t undo. The guard twitched and jerked until he went limp. Ronan released his grip, and the man fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

From the table, Maddie watched, legs crossed, a slow smile forming as she leaned back, absolutely thrilled.

Newport shifted in his seat as his thumb nervously rubbed the side of his glass. This was the first time he’d experienced the man behind the myth, the one Maddie had always spoken of.

Lucian rose and stepped forward, smooth as ever, voice calm. “I’ll mobilize everyone we have. She won’t make it far.”

Ronan didn’t respond. His gaze was still fixed on the dead man at his feet. He flexed his bloodied hand, then reached inside his coat and, with dramatic flair, pulled out two large knives from their leather holsters.

Razor sharp, curved like crescents, they glinted like teeth under the light.

He turned to Lucian at last. His voice came low, cold. “Find Agent Kang. Secure him.”

“Alive?” Lucian asked.

“Do what you wish.” A pause, his grip tightened on the hilts. “But leave Abby.”

He looked down at the blades and then back up. Whatever charm he’d worn before was gone.

“She’s ours,” he growled.

59

Kang stared at the elevator, the open doors beckoning for him to enter. He eyed the black dome in the ceiling. A beat later, he stepped inside the elevator. And the doors closed. There were no buttons to press, no floor lights, just a place to swipe a security card.

Now what?

The elevator jerked, and he felt himself moving down. Was he heading to the lowest level, where Abby was being kept?

After a few moments, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, revealing something Kang never expected. He stepped out into a large atrium, complete with benches, tables and chairs, potted trees, walkways. Essentially, an outdoor corporate park but in a building. He could easily envision the worker bees flooding the place during their lunch hour.

But the entire place was empty. Along the edges there appeared to be a few cafés, but they were closed.

The top of the atrium rose up, by his count, seven floors. He walked, head craning, as he took it all in. Suddenly, the door behind him slammed shut. He spun around. No one was there.

“This is where you wanted me,” he called out as he turned slowly, searching for movement. “Why not show yourself?”

Suddenly, another door opened, and in filed a number of armed guards. Kang jumped back behind a large potted plant, raising his rifle and taking aim. The guards were dressed all in black, with assault rifles. They stood there silently, staring ahead, as if still waiting for orders.

And then one turned his head to where Kang was crouched. A smile formed on his face. A second later, he fired on Kang’s position.

Kang ducked down as chipped pieces of concrete flew into the air, bullets chewing into the base of the potted tree. He rolled across the floor, farther back to another planter, and returned fire, dropping the man who’d fired first.

He was surgical with his rounds, each shot landing with purpose, either killing or wounding. He didn’t have much ammo, and he needed to be precise. Fifteen guards had initially appeared, but Kang’s sharpshooting had cut that number down to eight. Still, he was burning through rounds. He’d already expended two mags and was halfway through his last.

Kang had limited options—one, really: get to one of the fallen guard’s rifles. Just then he fired his last round.

No sooner had that happened than the guards stopped firing. Were they reloading? Kang peeked out from his hiding spot. He caught the last of them leaving through the door they had entered. A second later, a man in a suit appeared.

“Agent Kang,” the man called out. “I’m unarmed. Show yourself.”

Kang stepped out from behind the tree, rifle still in hand.

“Ah, there you are,” the man said, smiling. “Welcome to Darkside. My name is Lucian Thorne.”

He walked over to Kang, slowly, but intentionally. “I apologize for my men shooting at you.” He eyed a dead man on the floor for a moment. “A slight mix-up in the memo.”

Kang didn’t smile. “What is this place?”

Lucian glanced at the rifle Kang was holding and gestured casually for him to lower it. Kang did.

“As I said earlier, this is Darkside.”

“Yes, I heard that. Is this place part of Hillside Estates…the Brightside?”

“I’m afraid not. We’re two separate communities.”

Kang kept his eyes on him. “You know who I am, so I assume you know where my partner, Agent Kane, is. She’s here, right?”

“She is. And I assure you, as of now, she’s alive and well.”

“As of now? What does that mean?” Kang’s voice sharpened. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing here, but you guys are in serious trouble.”

“Are we?” Lucian tilted his head, feigning confusion. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re the one in trouble.”

Kang raised his rifle, pointing it directly at Lucian. “Take me to her.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. And if my calculations are correct, you’ve already fired your last bullet.”

Lucian slipped off his jacket, folded it neatly, and draped it over the back of a nearby chair.

“You see, Brightside, the people up top, they allow people to leave. Rarely, but it does happen.” Lucian loosened his tie with a single practiced pull and tossed it aside. “But here at Darkside? It’s one way only. Once you’re here…you stay.”

“So, you run the underground, Maddie runs the surface. Is that how you two psychos split the workload?”

“As much as I would like to say I’m the mastermind of this wonderful place, that title is reserved for one person only: Father Dark.”

“Father Dark? Is that who has Abby? I feel sorry for him; she’s more of a sunny-side-up type of person. Are you the enforcer, second-in-command? Why no nickname?”

Lucian smiled as he began unbuttoning his shirt, slow and controlled. First the cuffs, then down the front, one by one, like a man preparing for something sacred.

“We all have our roles here. I’m not here to steal the spotlight, though I am number two.”

“And what work is that? Terrorizing people? That Jane Doe the sheriff’s office found a few nights ago. She escaped from here, didn’t she? She found a way out. How many others like her are being held here against their will?”

“None are. Every person at Darkside is here because they want to be here. Because they believe in Father Dark’s way. But Evie…” Lucian shook his head disappointedly. “She was a lost cause. She never did fully acclimate.”

Kang’s stomach turned. Acclimate? She ran barefoot through freezing woods. That was fear. Survival.

“You call that willing?” Kang snapped. “You hunted her down, dragged her back, along with my partner.”

Lucian shrugged. “Semantics.”

With the last button on his shirt free, Lucian reached behind his neck, grabbed the collar, and yanked the shirt off in one smooth motion. The fabric gave a sharp whuff as it came free and sailed through the air, landing on the floor in front of Kang.

Beneath, his body was all muscle and ink. Black snakes coiled around thorn-covered skulls, tribal spirals running like scars along his ribs. And in the center of his chest, bold and unmissable, was a single word: DARKSIDE.

He flexed his chest, bouncing his pectorals slightly. “A little bird told me you’re an accomplished fighter.”

His smile disappeared, and his eyes sharpened. Then he shifted his stance, knees slightly bent, shoulders loose. He raised his fists and rolled his neck side to side, a deliberate warm-up.

“Come now, Agent. Don’t keep me waiting.”

60

Becket couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

He rubbed his eyes, blinked, but the scene didn’t change.

At the end of the hall was a small open space. Black balloons were tied to the backs of chairs. Numerous children sat around a table. On one end: a stack of gift-wrapped presents. On the other: a large black cake with candles. A boy wearing a paper crown sat jubilantly at the head of the table.

Becket slowly made his way down the hall. None of the adults standing behind the children looked his way. Instead, they began to sing “Happy Birthday.”

Becket stood at the edge of the space, rifle down by his side, watching.

When the song ended, the little boy took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Everyone clapped until the flames flickered back to life. Laughter followed at the joke candles.

The boy tried again, and again. The other children joined in, puffing out air, laughing harder each time as they failed. Finally, one of the parents removed the candles and dunked them in a cup filled with cola.

Someone began slicing the cake, plating the pieces while another adult passed them out to the children.

One of the men looked over at Becket. He had a smile on his face, his hands shoved down into his front pockets, like a typical dad would do.

“Would you like some cake? There’s plenty to go around.”

Becket glanced over his shoulder to be sure the man was speaking to him. Before he could answer, the man held out a paper plate with a slice of cake. Becket lowered the rifle, propped it against the wall, and took the plate.

“It’s dark chocolate. My favorite.”

“Um, thanks.” He took the plate. The cake looked normal.

“The birthday boy is my son,” the man continued as he took a bite of his cake. “He just turned eight.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you away from the celebration.”

“It’s fine. Don’t want him having too much fun, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

Becket glanced at the birthday boy. All fingers were accounted for.

He looked at the other adults. Nothing but smiles and laughter as they carried on with the celebration. As if the birthday party wasn’t bizarre enough, no one, not even the man who gave him cake, seemed to notice the assault rifle.

“My name’s Finn.” The man offered his hand, his eyes locked on to him.

Becket reached out and shook his hand, because apparently, now was the time for social graces. “Dennis,” he said with a quick shake.

Finn forked another bite into his mouth, and for the first time since Becket crashed the party, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. He then looked down at the rifle. Becket saw it, just for a second. The shift in Finn’s eyes.

A beat later, both men lunged for the weapon.

61

Ronan stormed down the corridor, each step sharp and punishing, his knives slicing the air at his sides with a rhythmic swish, swish, eager for flesh.

His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. His breaths came through flared nostrils in quick, controlled bursts.

That woman.

He’d given Abby too much space. He’d let her talk too freely. Breathe too comfortably. He thought he was being generous—forgiving, even. And she’d repaid him with mockery.

She made you look weak.

It’ll be the last time. I promise that.

You better hope so. Maddie saw it all, and she won’t forget. She’ll bring it up over and over. Her lapdog, he had a twinkle in his eyes. I swear he laughed.

He’ll pay.

And what about Lucian? God, did you see Lucian’s face? Your second-in-command. The one who reflects your will. He watched you get taken down by a tiny woman with a big mouth. You were outplayed in front of everyone.

Those thoughts hissed like steam in his brain. It wouldn’t shut up. But he’d moved past humiliation. That moment was gone. Now there was only clarity.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Painful.

That would be her ending. His one gift to her.

Up ahead, two guards appeared from another hallway and fell into step beside him.

“Where is she?” he growled.

“She’s still near the Chamber of the Given,” one of them replied. “We’ve got men on the floors above and below her.”

Ronan didn’t look at them. His eyes stayed locked forward, black with purpose.

“Do not engage,” he said, voice low and cold.

“We won’t,” one of the guards said quickly. “Though I did give the order to apprehend her and wait for your arrival.”

Ronan stopped walking.

In one smooth motion, he turned, and his blade flashed through the air. The cut was clean.

The man staggered back, his head tilting at a grotesque angle. His neck had been nearly severed, held together by a single strip of tendon and skin. He took two clumsy steps, as if his body hadn’t realized it was already dead, before dropping to the floor with a wet, final thud. Blood seeped into the carpet.

Ronan didn’t blink. He turned to the other guard.

“Did you also give an order?”

“No,” the man said quickly. “Only you give orders.”

62

I fired rapidly. Two in the chest, one in the forehead. The hallway guard dropped hard. I’d barely made it out of the rotunda before he rounded the corner from another hall, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. That was his mistake. And he paid for it.

Just as I stepped over the dead man, three more came running from the far end of the corridor.

“Stop right there,” the one in front shouted, still fumbling with the clasp on his holster. “Did you not hear me? You’re being detained by the⁠—”

I fired, striking him thrice in the face. He folded over his own legs, tumbling to the floor.

The other two froze. Easy targets. I planted shots in each of their chests.

Did they really think I wouldn’t use the rifle?

I salvaged whatever ammo I could from the men before continuing. I needed to find Sophia. I had promised to help her escape this place. But the truth was, I really had no idea where I was heading. I’d come straight here from Ronan’s place, but did I really want to retrace my steps, even if I could? He was the last person I wanted to run into.

How did the guards keep from getting lost? Did they carry maps? GPS? Some secret internal code? I went back to one of the dead guards, knelt, and searched his pockets. No phone. No GPS device. Surely they hadn’t memorized this place.

When we left the dining room, the guards seemed to have no problem making their way to the Chamber of the Given.

A cough, barely audible, drew my attention. One of them was still breathing. I moved fast and flipped him, and he groaned.

“How do you get around this place when everything looks the same?”

His eyes fluttered briefly. I was about to lose him. I slapped his cheek just hard enough to keep him with me. “How do you navigate the building? Is there a special map?”

He shook his head. “We patrol the same floors.” Then he was gone.

Exactly what I didn’t want to hear. They were assigned by section. Even the guards were kept in the dark.

Ronan and Lucian: Those two probably knew every square inch. Lucian especially. He never kept the same guards. I’d noticed that. Each time, new faces.

Finn had told me I lived in Tower Four and that to move between towers, a key card was needed. I had several on me. The guards had swiped us through multiple doors when they brought me to the Chamber of the Given. But here’s the million-dollar question: Did we ever leave Tower Four? Or was I still in it?

Pretty hard to plan an escape without knowing where you are. One thing I did know: I couldn’t stay put. I was already burning through whatever head start I’d managed to give myself.

At the end of the hallway were the same double doors we’d passed through before entering the chamber. The first guard had come from the narrow hallway at the midway point.

Do I retrace my steps or take a completely different route?

Just then, a roar split the distance. It was loud and raw, echoing from the other side of the doors.

“Abby!”

Ronan. He’s coming.

63

Kang tossed the weapon aside and rolled his neck. If this was how it was going down, Kang was ready to rumble.

Lucian struck first, fast and aggressive, with fists cutting through the air. Kang moved lightly, stepping back, weaving just enough for the blows to miss. His head bobbed, turning side to side, letting Lucian punch nothing but air.

Then Kang countered, sharp and clean. A snapping punch caught Lucian across the face and broke his rhythm. Kang moved in, following up with a flurry, but Lucian batted the strikes away.

Lucian drove a hard kick into Kang’s outer thigh, and a sharp pain shot up his leg. Lucian spun, leading with an elbow. Kang blocked it with his forearm, teeth clenched during the impact.

“Come on, Agent Kang,” Lucian taunted as he circled Kang, a large grin on his face. “Show me that kung fu you’re so good at.”

Then Lucian rushed in low, arms wrapping around Kang’s legs, driving him back. They hit the ground hard.

Kang’s back slammed against the tile, but he recovered fast, pulling guard before Lucian could mount him fully.

Lucian threw wild, brutal punches. Ground-and-pound-style. Kang deflected with tangled arms, turning the strikes into glancing blows. Elbows, fists, forearms, all colliding in a blur.

It was an all-out brawl now, no technique, no form. Just pure violence and pain management.

Lucian straightened, then drove his elbow down hard. One strike slipped through Kang’s defense, slamming into the side of his face. His teeth rattled. Blood flooded his mouth, sharp and metallic.

Kang bucked upward, throwing Lucian off balance. He drove a fist into Lucian’s throat and heard the satisfying choke as his breath caught. A hook followed, snapping into the side of Lucian’s jaw and knocking him off.

But Lucian was no slouch. He hit the ground, rolled, and came up fast. Ready.

They both were.

Kang squared up. Shifted into xuan ji bu—cat stance. One leg extended, his weight resting back, poised. Defensive. Reactive. Perfect for counters.

Lucian spat red off to the side. “Yes. Now let’s see how good you really are.”

He lunged, letting loose a flurry of chain punches, rapid-fire, each one slicing the air like a blade.

Kang shifted his weight, letting the punches sail past with barely an inch to spare. The first few blew past harmlessly. The next never landed.

He exploded forward from the cat stance, snapping his front foot into Lucian’s ribs. The impact staggered him. Kang closed in with a double palm strike, one into Lucian’s face, the other into his chest.

Lucian stumbled back, breath caught. For the first time, his smile wavered.

Now it was Kang’s turn to smile. “What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to fight.”

Lucian launched himself off a bench, spinning in midair, aiming a roundhouse kick at Kang’s head. Kang ducked in time and came up fast with a spinning back kick that just missed Lucian.

“Not bad for a fed,” Lucian said, catching his balance, blood now trailing from his nose and mouth. “You trained at Langley or in the mountains of Wudang?”

Kang smirked. “YouTube.”

Lucian laughed right before Kang rushed him again.

The next clash was a blur of fists, elbows, knees.

Kang took a hard kick to his face that sent his head snapping back and him landing on his butt. Lucian moved in, but Kang kicked a chair into Lucian’s path, tripping him up.

It was enough time for Kang to rise to his feet. With blood pouring from his mouth, Kang jumped off a low table, a flying knee that cracked into Lucian’s ribs.

Lucian stumbled. He was winded but grinning. “I felt the hate in that one.”

“I’m just getting started.” Kang spat again before running and springing off a tipped bench. He flipped in midair and landed a kick that cracked into Lucian’s shoulder, sending him stumbling into a planter. Lucian coughed as he wiped dirt from his mouth.

“Gymnastics too?” Lucian straightened up. “Or was that cheer squad?”

“State champion.” Kang kicked another chair at Lucian before launching a flying side kick off another. It connected, full chest. Lucian went sprawling into table and chairs.

Lucian rolled out from behind an overturned table, left shoulder drooping, a cut over his left eye pouring. He pointed at Kang. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you hit like a pissed-off monk.”

“And you fight like a TED Talk.”

They circled again, sweaty and bruised, still grinning like idiots.

“We don’t have to kill each other, you know,” Lucian offered, hands raised.

Kang tilted his head. “You giving up so soon?”

Lucian came forward fast, swinging wide, but Kang slipped under it and drove a reverse elbow toward Lucian’s head. But he ducked low and countered with a kick to Kang’s gut. The air rushed from his lungs as he doubled over.

Lucian moved in quick with knees. Hard, punishing strikes to the ribs. Kang staggered but held on tight to Lucian. Smelling blood, Lucian moved in for another brutal shot.

Kang caught the strike. He twisted, stepped around Lucian’s body, and locked his arm across the man’s throat.

Lucian struggled, clawing at Kang’s forearm as he felt the advantage shift. His grip didn’t budge. It was locked in, and Lucian knew it.

“You’re as good as they say,” Lucian rasped. “It’s been an honor.”

Kang said nothing and tightened the hold.

Lucian bucked hard, legs kicking, heels scraping against the floor. His hands continued to claw at Kang’s arm, frantic and failing. No words. Just weak breaths in panicked bursts as his body twisted, refusing to go quietly.

But Kang held on. Unshaken and unyielding.

Then when the struggle dulled, when the kicks slowed and the hands stopped clawing, Kang twisted.

The crack echoed through the atrium, sharp and final.

Lucian went limp. Kang held him a moment longer, then eased the weight down. Lucian’s head lolled to the side, mouth parted, eyes open and glassy. His final expression frozen in peace.

Only when Kang was certain did he let go.

Lucian’s body dropped with a heavy thud against the tile floor.

64

Becket got to the rifle first, but not fast enough. Finn came crashing into him, driving Becket’s shoulder into the hard wall. He winced at the sharp pain that shot down his arm and fought to keep his grip on the rifle’s barrel.

Both men struggled for control, rolling over each other, fighting for the dominant position. At one point, Finn was on top of Becket, their faces inches apart. Hot, forceful breaths shot from Finn’s nostrils as he bared his teeth.

Becket glanced toward the party. The adults were still chatting, still smiling, as if two men weren’t trying to kill each other five feet away. No one flinched or even turned. Just polite conversation and laughter. The kids, less composed, kept sneaking glances, but each time, a parent would gently guide their heads back toward the table, like they were correcting posture at finishing school.

Becket felt the crack of whiplash between two realities. One where he was locked in a life-and-death struggle with a maniac, and another where a mother calmly adjusted her child’s crooked party hat while another kid blew a noisemaker.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Becket growled, bracing against Finn’s weight.

“I could ask you the same question,” Finn said.

Becket jerked, then bucked hard and managed to throw Finn off. As they both scrambled to their sides, Finn surged forward and slammed his forehead into Becket’s face, just above the bridge of his nose. Sharp pain bloomed behind his eyes. Any lower and it would’ve shattered his nose. His eyes teared up, but he didn’t let go. He kept jerking and twisting, doing everything he could to keep Finn’s hands away from the trigger.

He started kicking Finn in the shin with the tip of his steel-toed boot. Finn howled in pain.

“Stop!” Becket barked. “This is insane. I’m a deputy with the sheriff’s office.”

“You have no jurisdiction down here. Father Dark rules all.”

Just then the rifle went off. A shot cracked through the room, the round whistling past Becket’s ear, close enough to sting.

The façade finally cracked. One by one, the parents began ushering their children away from the table, still trying to maintain their composure, like the party was simply winding down.

“Okay, party’s over,” one of them said in a singsong voice.

“It was so much fun! Can’t wait for the next one,” another added cheerfully.

“But we haven’t opened presents yet,” a child whined.

Finn then shifted his weight, driving his full body down onto Becket’s chest. Breathing became a struggle. Becket grunted, trying to shift out from under, but Finn leaned harder into the rifle, slowly angling the barrel toward Becket’s right eye.

An evil grin spread across Finn’s face as the tip inched closer. His mouth twitched with excitement. He slurped up spit like the moment made him salivate.

The muzzle pressed flush against Becket’s eye socket.

All Finn had to do was fire. One twitch and Becket’s skull would burst like a watermelon under a sledgehammer.

Finn started to laugh as he bucked his hips, trying to trigger the shot.

“You lose,” he growled.

He bucked again, harder this time. Becket knew he was out of time.

Then, a flash behind Finn. A dull thud.

Finn collapsed forward, limp. His full weight fell onto Becket. Blood ran from the back of his skull, warm and thick, dripping down onto Becket’s face.

Behind Finn stood a woman, barefoot, breath ragged, a bloodied hammer gripped tightly in both hands. Becket shoved Finn’s body off and scrambled backward, snatching up the rifle.

His eyes flicked back to Finn. The back of his skull was split wide open. Blood pooled fast beneath his head, dark and spreading. Becket turned the rifle toward the woman.

“Stay right there,” he said. “Who are you?”

She didn’t move. Her eyes were wide, the hammer still trembling in her hands.

“Help me, please,” she said. “Help me get my children out of this hell.”

65

As I ran down the narrow hallway, my thighs burned. My shoulder throbbed from where I’d been kicked earlier. Every part of me ached and felt stretched thin from too many close calls. Crusted blood was still caked around my nose from the pummeling my face had taken. The rifle felt heavier with every step. My breaths came hot and sharp, each one reminding me how thirsty I was.

Up ahead I approached a T-intersection and took a left. It ended in a pair of doors. I stopped, chest heaving. I glanced back. Closed doors that way too.

I reached into the satchel and pulled out one of the key cards. My hand was slick with sweat as I slid it into the slot.

A tiny chime. A click. It worked. For once, something had gone my way.

I pushed through and kept moving, rifle up. I tried a few of the side doors I passed, but they were locked. At the end of the hall: more doors. Of course.

How did Evie manage to get out?

The maze could work for me as well as it did for Ronan. The more turns I took, the harder I’d be to find. It was risky. Every step increased the odds we’d collide. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

I needed to find Sophia. She was the key to getting out of this place. She knew how to move through it.

But right now, I had one goal: Put distance between me and Ronan. Hearing his voice echo down the corridor, it hadn’t sounded human.

And where was Lucian? Was he hunting me too?

The black dome in the ceiling stared down at me. Were they tracking me? Watching my every step? If so, it was only a matter of time before they caught up. Fine. I had a rifle. I had ammo. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

I kept telling myself that if I ran long enough, I’d end up somewhere that mattered. A floor with purpose. The commissary. The quarters. Somewhere people actually were. Not this dead zone. I had to believe not everyone here was brainwashed. That there were others like Sophia who were willing to help end this.

Left. Right. Left again. I tried to avoid patterns. The more I zigzagged, the harder it’d be for Ronan to follow.

I turned a corner, spotted two guards up ahead, and pulled back quickly. It didn’t look like they’d seen me. My gut said backtracking was more likely to lead me straight into Ronan. I risked a peek. They were just standing there, one on each side of the hallway, like statues staring at each other.

Is this their turf? One stupid hallway? Sheesh, how boring.

I checked my ammo: half a mag in the rifle and two full ones in the satchel. Good enough.

I rounded the corner, rifle raised and steady. A few steps in, they noticed me, and their hands moved toward their hip holsters.

“Draw that gun if you don’t value your life,” I said calmly as I closed the distance.

They hesitated. I could see the gears turning. Fight? Run? Beg?

One of them decided to test me and reached for his gun. I fired one round into his thigh. He screamed and dropped, clutching his leg. The other froze.

“Down,” I ordered. “Flat.”

He dropped faster than a stack of bricks.

I disarmed both. The one on the ground was still crying about his leg. I took his weapon, slipped it into the satchel, then dismantled the other, scattering the pieces down the hall. I used their handcuffs to secure them before moving on.

“Are you just going to leave me here? You freaking shot me!” the guard called out.

I glanced back at the man writhing on the floor. Would he bleed out without help? Yes. Would he have done the same to me? Absolutely.

I shrugged. “Make an Offering and be saved.”

Two doors stood ahead. I pulled out my key card and kept going. A moment later, I realized where I was. I’d been here before.

The wall of monitors flickered with images of rotating body parts. Prices shifting in real time. A few men and women sat at long tables, either staring blankly or murmuring to each other. I was back inside the Offering Room.

The guards didn’t hesitate. Gunfire erupted the moment I entered.

I dove behind a counter, landing hard on my side. Bullets tore through the wood and metal, splinters slicing past my face. This cover wasn’t going to hold. Not for long.

I popped up and fired, dropping the nearest shooter with two shots to the chest. Then I sprinted for the rear of the room, climbing the slight incline that gave me just enough elevation to see their positions clearly.

There were still a few residents scattered under tables, covering their heads like this was just another scheduled disruption. Most had already fled.

Back and forth we traded gunfire. Eventually I slammed my last mag into the rifle with three shooters left. I could try scavenging off one of the fallen, but stepping off this perch meant losing my only advantage.

From up here, I had the high ground. Staying put meant every shot had to count. No mistakes.

The low ambient lighting worked in my favor as I crawled sideways across the sloped floor to a new angle. From there, I flanked two of them. Quick shots. Center mass. Both were down.

There was one left, and he looked like a runner. A beat later, he proved me right and sprinted for the curtained door. I peppered it with bullets, carving up the exit. I might have wounded him on his way out.

With the room clear, I hurried down to where the few remaining residents still huddled beneath tables, trembling. Their eyes were locked onto every step I took.

“Who here knows Sophia? Finn’s wife?”

No one answered.

“Anyone?”

Still nothing. Were they afraid of me? Or more afraid of him?

“I’m leaving,” I said, louder. “You can come with me. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Father Dark will make you pay!” someone shouted, then bolted for the exit.

A few more scrambled after him, not one of them looking back. Just blind faith and fear driving their feet.

I didn’t try to stop them. They weren’t the enemy. As far as I was concerned, they were victims of Ronan’s twisted gospel. I turned to the remaining two.

“You want to run? Run,” I said. “I won’t stop you.”

And they did. Like little mice scurrying away, leaving me alone in a room still humming with heat and smoke.

I figured I was close to my quarters, close to where I could find Sophia and the kids. I took one step toward the exit, and a voice slammed into the room like a war drum.

“Abby!”

I spun around. At the far end of the room stood Ronan.

He looked feral. Gone was composed host with a perfectly pressed suit. Now he was sweat slicked, hair loose and breath ragged. In each hand, he held a curved knife that gleamed in the low light. His eyes were locked on mine. And this time, there was no smile.

“You want out of the Darkside?”

He passed the blades across each other, slow and deliberate, as if he were sharpening them for me.

“Pieces. That’s the only way you will leave.”

66

“Help you?” Becket said, after a dry swallow. “You just crushed the back of that guy’s head.”

“He was going to kill you. Would you rather I hadn’t?”

Becket was still on the ground, back pressed against the wall. His rifle was aimed at the woman who, just moments ago, had been singing “Happy Birthday.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Sophia,” she said, letting the hammer slip from her hand. It hit the tile with a harsh clank. “That’s my husband.”

“Wait?” Becket blinked, thrown off. “He was your husband?”

She let out a soft breath as her shoulders sagged. Her eyes drifted back to the growing crimson pool around her husband’s head. “He would’ve killed you. I had no choice.”

She took a step toward him.

“Don’t,” Becket said quickly, tightening his grip. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I saved your life because I need your help.”

“Yeah, well, you seem to be handling things fine so far.”

“We have to hurry. We don’t have much time.”

He sat there, unsure if this woman was a threat to him.

“Come on,” she said, holding out a hand. “I promise I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Becket hesitated for a beat before grabbing hold. She pulled him to his feet.

“We live this way.”

They moved quickly down a hall. Becket tried to get his bearings, but everything looked the same.

“Are you here for Agent Kane?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“You know her?”

“She was assigned a room near mine.”

“Is she alive? I mean, is she okay?”

“She was. Last I saw her, she promised to help me escape.”

Sophia stopped in front of a door. “This is her room.”

Becket raised a hand. “Let me go first.”

He opened the door and stepped into the small room cautiously. He motioned for Sophia to stay put, but she followed him inside. He checked the bathroom and found Abby’s clothes on the floor.

“She’s definitely been here,” he said quietly. “You were right about that.”

“Of course I was. Look, I know you don’t trust me after seeing me hammer my husband’s head in back there⁠—”

“Do you know where Agent Kane is?”

“I heard she was invited to dinner with Father Dark.”

Becket turned. “Who’s Father Dark?”

Sophia started explaining. She spoke quickly, like the words had been building up for years. She spoke about the man who called himself Father Dark, about Darkside, about the brainwashing that went on and how they were all really prisoners.

Becket listened to her, absorbing it all. The twisted community. The reward system. The surveillance. The fear.

“Now you should understand why I killed my husband. It was just as much for me, as it was for you. His plan was to deplete me and then my children.”

“Why haven’t people tried to leave?”

“Because they’re scared. Because everyone here is watching everyone else. Snitching is rewarded. Evie was the only person I know of who actually made it outside.”

“Evie,” Becket repeated. “That must be her name.”

“You know her?”

“I found her. Battered, half starved, and wearing rags. She was too terrified to talk. I thought she was delusional.”

“She wasn’t.” Sophia’s voice was soft. “She was the only one brave enough to run from here. Where is Evie now?” she asked.

“You’re not gonna like what I have to say, but she ran away from the clinic in town where she was being treated. Ran off into the woods. I’m pretty sure she was captured by this Father Dark guy and brought back here.”

Defeat formed on Sophia’s face.

“If she’s down here someplace, she’ll know how to get out.”

“No, if they caught her, then she’s already dead. It’s punishment for leaving.”

Becket swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

“I still need to try, regardless,” Sophia said with renewed energy. “I told Abby if she could get her hands on a key card, I could get us to the elevators. It’s the only way to the top.”

“No, it’s not. I came down through the stairs. No key card needed there.”

Sophia’s eyes lit up. “You remember the way?”

“I think so. But I came here with Agent Kang, her partner. I got separated from him. He’s somewhere down here. I don’t know where, but I need to find him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Sophia said. “We’ll be faster if I lead. I know how to move around this place without being seen. They’re always watching.”

Before Becket could argue, she’d hurried out of the room.

A few minutes later, she returned, this time with her kids. One on each hand, looking up at Becket like he was their white knight in shining armor.

“I don’t think bringing your kids right now is a good idea.”

“I’m not leaving them here. We leave this floor, we leave for good. No turning around and coming back.”

The look on Sophia’s face said it all. The crinkle in her brow, the narrowed eyes, the tight lips. She’d made up her mind.

“Okay, where to, then?” he asked.

Sophia didn’t hesitate.

“To where Father Dark lives, of course.”

67

Kang scavenged what he could from the fallen in the atrium. He’d just killed the second-in-command of this nightmare world, and still no sign of Abby.

What had started as a simple division of duties between partners had spiraled into Abby’s unimaginable disappearance. Since then, Kang had searched through empty woods, clashed with corrupt lawmen, been locked in a holding cell and shot at by an army of rent-a-cops, and now found himself deep underground in a maze called Darkside, ruled by a man who called himself Father Dark.

This was no longer a missing persons case. It was a damn quest.

He crossed to the other side of the atrium and headed out the door that Lucian had entered from. Kang figured he had to have come from somewhere much more important.

He stepped into another identical hallway with the same sterile walls, same closed doors. Any hope for clarity dissolved.

How does anyone find their way around this place?

Kang wandered down the hall, checking doors. The few that were unlocked were empty. He found a stairwell, headed up a floor. Continued walking until it finally opened into a modest lounge filled with metal tables, chairs, and a caged desk that looked like it had once served a purpose but appeared to have been abandoned.

I wonder if people were living here but have been evacuated?

Just then, Kang turned to head down a hall when a flash of movement in the distance caught his attention. He froze. For a second, he thought he was seeing things. But the slouched shoulders, the uneven stride: They were familiar.

It was Becket. And he wasn’t alone.

A woman walked beside him, gripping the hands of two children. They looked like a family lost in a maze they hadn’t signed up for.

Kang blinked, hard. He had to be hallucinating. But when he looked again, nope. That was Becket.

Becket spotted Kang at the same time and seemed to have the same reaction. As the two men closed the distance, weary smiles formed on their faces.

“You look like shit,” Becket said.

Kang raised a brow. “I had to fight my way through the underworld. What’s your excuse?”

“Crazy birthday party.”

When they finally reached each other, there were no hugs, no theatrics. Just two exhausted men standing on the same side of the hallway again.

Kang exhaled. “I’m sure you have an explanation.” His eyes moved to the woman and children.

“I do. This is Sophia. She knows where to find Abby.”

68

Ronan launched himself. Teeth and rage sprinting toward me.

Furniture exploded in every direction as he barreled through, shouldering tables aside and sending chairs airborne with his knees. Blades glinted in each hand. His coat whipped behind him as he let out a guttural cry. More beast than man.

His eyes locked on mine, wild and unblinking. Gone were the pleasantries and eloquent speeches. Raw fury replaced them.

I opened fire.

The shots rang out sharp and fast, slamming into the table he dove behind. I stopped his advance, but it cost me. My rifle clicked empty. Somewhere behind the mess of splintered wood and overturned furniture, his voice slithered out.

“Out already? That’s disappointing, Abby. We were just starting to enjoy ourselves.”

I dropped low and moved fast, scanning for a weapon. Behind the bar, slumped against the shelving, a guard lay face down in a pool of blood, a rifle still slung over one shoulder. I sprinted and slid. Shards of glass tore through the thin fabric of my dress, slicing my knees as I skidded to a stop against him. I yanked the rifle free, heart pounding. Then I leaned out just enough to raise the barrel and take aim.

Ronan was nowhere to be seen.

“Did you find more bullets?” he called, mocking now. “Choose your shots wisely. You won’t get many in this game of hide-and-seek.”

He had moved. His voice was coming from another angle, somewhere near the top of the room. He had the high ground.

“Short people are great at hiding, didn’t you know that?” I said.

“You like games, Abby. That’s why I like you.”

I popped the mag. Half full. Not great, but I had to make it work. If I could draw him out, force him to come at me, I could get a clean shot.

But Ronan wasn’t stupid. At least, not gullible-stupid.

“You’re one to talk,” I said. “You think sneaking around scares me? You’re a rat. And rats, unlike mice, are too big and clumsy to scurry around unnoticed.”

I crawled along the edge of the bar, keeping my voice steady. “By the way, where’s your obedient sidekick, Lucian? I thought for sure you’d gang up on me.”

“Lucian has orders to deal with your partner.” Ronan’s voice rang out, full of theatrical glee. “Whoops!” he cried, mock horror dripping from his tone. “Did I just let the cat out of the bag?”

Was that true? Had Kang figured out where I was? Warmth surged in my chest. Of course he had. Of course he’d come for me. Just knowing Kang was somewhere near filled me with renewed hope.

I moved again, keeping low as I crawled toward the wall of monitors at the front of the room. The narrow stage jutted out just enough to create a crawl space beneath it. If I could get under there, I could work my way across the room, maybe flank him.

“Lucian’s no match for Agent Kang,” I said.

“You underestimate him,” Ronan replied, voice moving again. “While I am his superior, Lucian was chosen for more than obedience. He’s a trained fighter. He’s never lost a battle.”

I ducked low and slid under the shallow stage at the front of the room and started making my way across. It was dark and smelled like dust, dried sweat, and old wiring. I kept my chest low, elbows pulling me forward inch by inch, my cheek occasionally scraping against the cold concrete.

Somewhere out in the room, Ronan was still talking, low and performative, like he was addressing a crowd that no longer existed. I couldn’t make out the words, just the rhythm of pontificating. If I had to guess, it was a selection of his greatest hits. His inability to shut up was my biggest advantage, a way to keep him pinned. Until…

The room had gone silent. When did he stop talking? Had it been a minute? More?

I stopped crawling. My fingers went still on the floor.

He was quiet. Too quiet to be catching his breath or gathering his thoughts.

I strained to listen, trying to pick up anything that might tell me if he was on the move. A footstep. A chair leg dragging. The bump of a knee against a table. Even Ronan, as theatrical as he was, couldn’t stay silent forever. But there was nothing. Just the sound of my own breathing.

Then I felt it. That moment your body registers something before your mind catches up. The sensation of not being alone.

I looked up.

A face in the shadows. Eyes level with mine. Inches away.

“Peekaboo,” he whispered.

69

Ronan’s hot breath hit my face first.

Then he lunged. I threw my forearms up just as his weight bulldozed into me, driving me back, my rifle flying out of my hands. If he got on top, it was over. He was too big, too strong. I couldn’t win that fight.

His hand was near my mouth, and I clamped down as hard as possible, my teeth slicing through skin as I yanked away, tearing off a chunk. A roar ripped out of him as I scurried back, legs kicking wildly, my heels slamming into his face again and again.

A metallic taste filled my mouth. The lump of flesh on my tongue nearly made me gag before I spat it out.

But during that fury, Ronan had managed to disappear again. His face was no longer a stomping ground beneath my heels. I sat up, backpedaling fast, eyes scanning the dark. Nothing. No shape, no sound. He was gone.

I had no idea where my weapon was. As far as I knew, Ronan was still armed with daggers. I had to get out from under the stage.

I darted left, ducking beneath the curtain. Reached forward, hands planting on the floor, ready to drag myself free⁠—

When two hands clamped around my ankles and yanked me back into the dark.

Nooo!

A chill exploded across my body as I was dragged across the floor. The curtain closed in around me, and pitch black swallowed everything. My fingernails scraped uselessly at the ground, trying to catch something, anything.

I couldn’t see a thing. Not anymore. That brief moment outside, flooded in light, had shut down any vision I had. The dark didn’t care that I’d been here before. It made me start over.

I braced for the stab. Any second now. The cold bite of a blade. The thought of it made my body seize.

But nothing came. Just the sound of his grunts. His breathing, ragged and close. The weight of him dragging me deeper.

I twisted, kicked, swung blindly. My fist connected. Once, then twice, with something soft and wet. His face.

Still, he didn’t stop or slow his attack.

The weight of him climbed over me, heavy and relentless. My legs were pinned. His knees crushed down on my thighs. Next would be my arms.

I fought harder. Twisting, tangling, locking my fingers around his forearms. Anything to keep him from gaining full control. I didn’t need to win, I just needed to wear him out.

I strained and tried to adjust my eyesight, but it was impossible. I was lucky if I could make out the glint of teeth, the shape of movement. If his eyes were open, I wouldn’t know. They were gone, swallowed by black.

My ears became my defense.

I heard the grind of his boot twisting against the floor, and the guttural growling and grunting.

And then an opportunity. Something hard dug into my chest. It was solid. Not human. I realized he’d sheathed his daggers.

I slipped a hand between us, trying to reach it, but doing so weakened my defense. His fist caught the side of my face, snapping my head to the left. His forearm slid across my face, searching for the crook of my neck. I pushed, clawed, trying to keep it away, but he was too strong, too slick with blood. If he locked it in, he’d crush my windpipe.

I threw my head forward, a desperate attempt to headbutt him. I came up short.

He laughed. “The time has come to make an Offering, Abby. Don’t fight it. Accept it.”

In the distance I heard a massive eruption of gunfire.

Ronan chuckled darkly. “You think that’s Agent Kang coming to your rescue? He’s outnumbered. Lucian’s men were ordered to shoot him until there’s nothing left. Just a discarded piece of flesh.”

And then his breath hitched.

A sharp gasp followed by choking.

My hand had found the dagger and driven it up into the soft flesh just below his ribs. He grunted as I jerked the blade up.

I pulled, slicing forward.

Pushed, slicing back.

Twisted.

Anything to carve the hole wider, deeper.

Until my hand was slick, drenched in warmth, as blood gushed out of him.

The brunt of Ronan’s weight collapsed on top of me, hot and unmoving. I didn’t dare let go of the knife. What if he was playing possum? I shoved it deeper, twisting hard before rolling his body just far enough for me to wriggle free. Only once I was out from under him did I yank the blade from his gut.

I scrambled for the curtain, crawling fast toward the light spilling in under the stage apron. With every inch forward, I expected to feel his hand clamp down on my ankle, to be dragged back again into the dark. But it didn’t come. No grip. No breath on my neck. I burst into the open, sucking in air, unsteady on my feet, the blood-slick knife still in my hand.

The room was empty. No guards. No residents. Just overturned chairs, broken tables, and the lingering scent of sulfur and blood. My chest rose and fell in harsh bursts, the adrenaline still burning a path through every limb, my heart pounding in overtime.

Gunfire rang out beyond the doors. It was louder and closing in.

The knife wouldn’t do. I needed a weapon with range. My eyes scanned the floor as I wove through the wreckage, past broken bodies and flipped furniture. Where were the damn rifles?

The gunfire cracked again, louder now. The doors wouldn’t hold much longer.

Then I saw it, the stock of a rifle sticking out from under a dead guard. I dove, grabbing it just as the door burst open and the curtain flew to the side.

A guard stood there with his weapon raised, eyes locked on mine.

His chest erupted in a spray of red as bullets tore through him, tossing his body like a puppet with its strings cut. He dropped hard, limbs twitching.

Behind him, framed in the doorway and lit from behind, stood a tall figure. Nothing but a silhouette at first, haloed by the flickering hallway light. The rifle hung at his side, still smoking.

Then he stepped forward, just enough for the shadows to peel back and his face to come into view.

Kang.

I was on my knees, rifle in hand, half laughing, half crying. “What took you so long?”

70

Kang rushed over, scooping me off the floor, his hands skimming my arms and shoulders, checking for injuries. I won’t lie, having him fuss over me like a worried mother warmed me.

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing at his arm. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I⁠—”

“What? You should’ve automatically figured out I was underground?”

He gave me that look, the one that carried a hundred regrets. I reached up and wiped away the start of something I wasn’t ready to see fall from his eyes.

“Don’t you dare.”

Seeing Kang solid and alive had dragged everything to the surface for me. My eyes were welling, the dam tipping, as pressure rose in my throat. If I saw him fall apart, I wasn’t sure I’d hold back.

I wiped once more.

Past Kang, I saw Becket, blood smeared and breathing heavy. His uniform was tattered and torn, and he’d lost his hat. To be honest, I hadn’t expected to see him after telling him we weren’t taking his Jane Doe off his hands.

“Thanks for fighting the fight,” I said.

He nodded with a weak smile.

Sophia stepped out from behind him, the kids in tow, fear on their faces.

“I was coming for you,” I told her.

“I know.” Her voice broke, and the tears came freely.

“I hate to be the one to keep us on schedule,” Kang said, scanning the room, “but we need to get to the surface. We’re low on ammo, and the guards⁠—”

“They’ll come for us,” Sophia cut in, wiping her eyes to stay strong in front of her children. “Father Dark will order them all.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Father Dark,” I said, wiping at the sweat on my forehead. “He’s done playing God.”

“Then Lucian will take over. He’s just as dangerous.” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Kang turned to her. “I met up with Lucian in the atrium. He’s not taking anything over.”

Just then the doors blew inward with a thunderous crack, the blast ripping through the air like a bomb. Splinters of wood, shards of metal, chunks of the doorframe all came flying at us. I hit the floor, arms over my head, feeling the air rush past my face. Smoke surged in behind it, black and thick, and then they stepped through.

Men in full body armor. Helmets, visors, tactical vests, each one of them armed to the teeth. They moved with precision, filing into the room like this was their morning drill.

Flames licked across the curtains and climbed the walls. The fire was spreading fast, lighting the ceiling like a fuse. Heat swelled, and the smoke turned suffocating.

One of them stepped forward, heavier than the rest. His armor was bulkier, and slung over his shoulder was an RPG. He knelt, rested it on the crook of his shoulder, and took aim.

“Run!” I shouted, already turning toward the rear exit. I opened fire, but my rounds bounced off their armor like BBs. I kept shooting anyway, trying to give the others a few seconds to move.

The kids were screaming now. Becket had already scooped one of them up, Sophia the other. They ran toward the door.

Kang grabbed my arm just as my rifle expelled its last round. The slide locked back with a sharp metallic clack.

“Out!” I yelled.

He didn’t answer and just yanked hard. My feet lifted off the ground as he practically carried me across the room. Another explosion rocked the walls behind us, the blast slamming into our backs. We flew through the doorway and tumbled into the hallway like a pair of tin cans.

I hit the ground hard. My ears rang like sirens. Everything else was muffled and distant. I blinked fast, trying to get my bearings. Kang appeared in front of me, shouting something, but I couldn’t hear a word. I knew that look on his face, though. It meant Move. Now.

Kang and I brought up the rear. Becket and Sophia led the way, each of them with a child in tow. Sophia took the next right, and we all rounded the corner. Another stretch of hallway. Another blur of sameness.

Then we hit a four-way intersection, and Sophia came to a sudden stop.

“What are we doing?” I shouted, still half deaf. “Why are we stopping?”

She turned to Becket. She was waiting on him. Why?

“We need the elevators!” I barked. “That’s the only way up!”

“We don’t need the elevators,” Becket said, catching his breath. “Kang and I came down through a stairwell. It’s a hike, but we don’t need a key card. We just need to find it again.”

I reached into the satchel and yanked out the key card I’d taken from a dead guard. “Sophia. I have this. Elevators. Now!”

Behind us, gunfire erupted, and the walls lit up in flashes. Bullets snapped past, biting into concrete. I saw him, the same tank of a man who’d fired the RPG earlier. He was now reloading.

“This way!” Sophia shouted, veering left.

The next RPG slammed into the wall behind us. The impact was deafening, and I felt the floor shift beneath me. Plaster and grit rained from above as the walls groaned. Just what I wanted. To be trapped in a building on the verge of collapse.

I followed Sophia, chasing the back of her head through smoke-filled corridors. Every twist felt the same, every hallway a repetition of the last. But then I recognized it. A section I’d passed through before.

Up ahead were the elevator doors.

She reached it first and pressed the call button, but the doors didn’t open. She hit it again, and again. By the time I reached the elevator she was punching the button like it owed her money.

I slid the key card through the slot and pressed the button. Nothing.

Becket showed up behind us, panting. “Are you sure you got the right key⁠—”

I dug into the satchel, pulled out the rest of the cards, tried one and then the other. But still the doors remained closed. I stared at the key card. Did I have the wrong cards?

Kang stepped up to the elevator, pressed an ear to the seam, and listened. “It’s coming. I can hear it.”

We held our breath. Then—ding. The doors slid open.

We hurried inside; it was a tight fit, but no one cared. There were only two buttons, up and down.

“How do we know what floor it goes to?” Becket asked, panicked.

“We don’t. I’ve ridden them a couple of times with Lucian. Each time they only went to the floor he wanted. The last one I took dropped us off at Ronan’s place.” Everyone looked at me, confused. “I mean, Father Dark.”

I turned to Sophia. “Are you sure this is the elevator to the top?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

We didn’t have much of a choice. Either this was the right elevator, or we were about to end up possibly somewhere worse. I slid the key card and pressed the up button. The doors slid closed just as a guard came into view, rifle raised. Too slow.

The elevator lurched, then began rising, faster than I remembered. As the seconds ticked by, I let myself believe, just for a moment, that we were done. I was so sure we would have stopped already if this was just heading to another floor in the tower or even Ronan’s place.

The elevator slowed and came to a stop. A soft ding.

The doors opened, and I took one step out but stopped. It wasn’t the surface, just another hallway with familiar florescent lighting and closed doors.

It was more Darkside.

Behind me, Kang stepped out and scanned the space. Another explosion rocked the floor, and dust rained down. One of the fluorescents broke loose and crashed beside us.

“Maybe we’re close,” Kang said. He pulled out his phone. “I found a model of Darkside over at the rec center in Hillside Estates.”

I took his phone from him for a closer look and flipped back and forth between the scale model of Hillside and Darkside. “You’re telling me we’re underneath this community?”

“Yeah, the model is how I figured out you were underground.”

“I can’t believe how big this place is. There were only seven residential floors. I wonder what’s on the rest.”

“It’s expansive, maybe fifteen, twenty floors,” Kang said. “We can’t be that deep. There’s gotta be stairs⁠—”

“What are you doing?” Sophia’s voice cracked.

I turned. Becket was standing just outside the elevator. Gun drawn and trained on us.

“Sorry, guys,” he said. “I honestly didn’t think you’d make it this far.”

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

He stepped backward into the elevator, keeping the weapon steady. A tiny smirk appeared on his face.

“I have to admit,” he said, “you two are better than people give you credit for. Underhyped, even. I really thought you’d die sooner.”

“Becket.” Kang’s voice sharpened. “What the hell are you doing?”

Becket shrugged. “Darkside’s done. Hillside too. It’s all shutting down. It didn’t have to be this way if they’d picked Evie up the first night I found her. They should have tracked her to the clinic.”

“What are you talking about?” Kang asked, his face a mask of confusion. “You’re on our side. Stacks, Peel…they’re the dirty ones.”

“They still are—well, were. But they didn’t know they had a double agent in their midst. You know, at one point, I really thought you might have figured it out, especially when I said I lost the phone number for the FBI. I thought for sure you’d be on to me. I mean, how stupid did I need to be to do that, right? But it turns out you were too focused on saving Abby.”

Another rumble shook the walls. He glanced up. “Eventually this place will come down. RPGs tend to do a lot of damage. That’s the whole point of having people with blind faith: They follow every single order without question.”

“So that’s it? You work for Maddie, in Hillside?” Kang said.

“Nah, she’s a pawn, like Ronan was, and like you two were. I was put in place to truly oversee.”

Sophia’s voice cracked as she clutched her children.

“Sorry, Sophia,” Becket said. “You seem like a nice person caught in a terrible situation. But this needs to be done.”

More groaning. Then a loud thunk from somewhere above.

“You’ll be FBI heroes,” he said. “Posthumously, but still. I mean, you guys found this place and put a stop to whatever the hell was taking place here.”

My hand twitched toward my waist, but my weapon was long gone.

Becket gave a faint smile. “I know, I know. You think backup is on the way, but this is Appleton we’re talking about.” He laughed. “But a big hole in the ground will be hard to ignore. Eventually an army of your colleagues will make their way here. When they do, they’ll find your bodies in the wreckage and enough proof to call this place evil, but not much more.”

He nodded, like that settled it. “Well. Goodbye.”

The doors closed.

71

Another explosion. The hallway rocked hard enough to knock dust from the ceiling. Bigger chunks of concrete crashed to the floor. Those men were set on destroying the building, just like Becket said.

“No, this can’t be happening!” Sophia cried out. She snatched the key card from my hand and slid the card through the slot, slamming the button over and over.

“No, no, no. Come on! We’re so close!”

“Forget it,” I said. “Kang’s right. There’s gotta be a stairwell. We came up a long way.”

The lights flickered. For a second, everything dimmed to a pulse of red emergency glow before flicking back.

“We’re not going to make it,” Sophia gasped.

“Your negativity really isn’t helping,” I said as I eyed her children. She glanced down at them, each clutching a leg. She composed herself.

“Okay, we keep moving and find that stairwell.”

As we moved forward, a loud crack ripped through the hallway behind us. I turned in time to see the floor split open. The walls sheared away from the base and moved up and down as if the building were breathing.

When we reached a T-intersection, I turned to Sophia. She stood frozen, gripping each of her children’s hands. Her eyes were wide and glassy. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know which way to go.”

Her daughter started to cry, a small, terrified sound that barely cut through the noise. I knelt beside her and brushed her hair back from her face.

“It’s okay. We’re near the top. I promise.”

Her brother said nothing. He stood stiff, trying to be brave, but I noticed his hands were shaking.

I looked up at Sophia. “Take a guess. That’s all we’ve got.”

She hesitated, then pointed. “That way.”

We sprinted down the right hallway. It curved sharply, dust filling the air as more concrete fractured around us. Cracks webbed across the walls. The ground shifted beneath our feet.

A door. At the end.

I ran up to it, slid the key card. A green light blinked, and it clicked open.

“Stairwell!” I shouted, yanking it wide.

The building shuddered hard.

“Hurry! Go!”

Sophia pushed through, the kids close behind. Kang followed, and I brought up the rear.

We started climbing. Step after step. Floor after floor.

“It was a hike down,” Kang said between breaths. “But this has to lead up. It has to.”

The stairwell groaned with every step, a deep moan that echoed up from the dark below. The air in the stairwell was starting to fill with thick dust that clung to our skin.

The walls around us were swelling from the pressure of something shifting. Cracks ran through the concrete like veins, and somewhere below us, a pipe hissed as if it were gasping its last breath.

Sophia’s daughter clung to her shirt but stumbled on a stair. Kang quickly picked her up and slid her over his back, piggybacking her. Her son kept his footing on the stairs.

“You’re doing a great job,” I said.

Everyone’s faces were gray with dust, hair matted. Sophia herself was soaked in sweat, struggling with each step, but she kept going. We all did. Because stopping wasn’t an option.

A bang echoed below, and the entire stairwell lurched. We stopped for half a second, listening to the silence that followed. Then Kang said, “Move,” and we did.

We passed landings, but there were no signs, no numbers, no doors.

“We’re on the right track. There were no doors when we were hiking down,” Kang said.

My legs burned and my knees felt like they were coming apart as I breathed hard, choking on dust.

Suddenly Kang stopped. Up ahead was a door. He pulled it open. No key card was needed.

We pushed through into a dimly lit hallway and into another stairwell. I couldn’t believe it.

“We passed through two sets of stairs,” Kang said. “We’re on track.”

We burst out through another door and into a hallway. At the far end, a ladder stretched upward, bolted to the wall. Above it, a square panel set into the ceiling.

I turned to Kang. “Does this look familiar?”

Kang’s voice jumped. “Yep… I remember that ladder.”

We ran down the hall. Kang reached the ladder first. Sophia’s daughter clung to his back as he climbed. He slammed a hand against the trap door at the top, and it flew open with a metallic clang.

One by one, we ascended. Kang helped haul each of us through the hatch, yanking me out last with a grip that nearly dislocated my shoulder.

We walked out of a storage room and into a darkened office. It looked like a war zone. Shredded desks. Bullet holes in the drywall. Glass crunched underfoot where the windows had been blown out.

“What is this place?” I asked.

Kang looked around. “Security headquarters.”

He jogged to the weapons cage, grabbed a rifle, and tossed it to me.

“Take it. Just in case.”

He then slung another one over his shoulder.

We moved toward the window. Outside, the streetlamps lit up the quaint roads. In the distance, I spotted a few homes, a small park with trees and benches and a swing set.

“This is Hillside Estates, the Brightside,” Kang said, pointing. “That road over there leads to the gated entrance.”

I stared out, trying to make sense of it.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Good question. Nothing about this place is real. I feel like these people are plants, a cover-up for what is happening down below.”

“So, it’s a cult up here?” I asked.

“Pretty much. It’s run by a woman named Maddie Bright. I think she’s the equivalent of this Father Dark guy.”

“You think they abandoned ship?”

“Looks like it.”

The building gently rolled from side to side.

“We need to get as far away from this place as possible,” I said. “Who knows how much of the ground’s about to disappear.”

We exited the building and started down the road. Not a single soul was in sight. It looked like the day after some apocalyptic tragedy. Just empty homes, shuttered stores, dead quiet buildings.

And the silence…

Only the sound of our footsteps hitting pavement. That, and our heavy breathing.

“The road continues through that wooded area up ahead,” Kang called out. “On the other side is the main gate. Once we pass through, we’re home free.”

We entered the woods. The streetlamps grew sparse, and the shadows pressed in from both sides.

Up ahead, I caught sight of the gates. Tall, ornate, lit from below like the face of some grand estate. A security office sat beside them, lights still burning.

This was it. We’d made it. Or so I thought. A figure stepped into the road ahead of us.

“Agent Kang,” a deep voice called out. “Stop right there.”

We froze.

The voice belonged to a tall square-jawed man with an expressionless stare. His hand rested on the butt of his sidearm.

“Who’s that?”

“Wendel Newport, head of Hillside security,” Kang said.

And then a woman with blond hair stepped out from behind him. Suddenly we were surrounded by a dozen or more men pointing rifles at us.

“Agent Kang,” she said smoothly. “You made it farther than I expected.”

“That’s Maddie Bright,” Kang whispered out of the side of his mouth. “She’s in charge.”

“Doesn’t look like she’s here to welcome us,” I muttered.

Kang raised his voice. “It’s over, Maddie. The Darkside beneath us is collapsing as we speak, and FBI backup is coming. This place is finished.”

She laughed. “You foolish man. No one is coming to save you. Now put down your weapons.”

“Ronan is dead,” I said. “I killed him. You don’t have to follow in his footsteps.”

She smiled like I’d just complimented her shoes.

“You must be Agent Kane. The root of all this trouble. Ronan should’ve killed you the moment he saw you. That was his downfall, a pretty face. Men are so predictable.”

The guards stepped in closer. Guns ready to shred us. There was no bluff in their posture. One of them fired a few rounds at the ground near our feet.

“The next one hits the kids. I promise,” Maddie said, her voice low and cold.

Kang lowered his rifle. I did the same. Sophia pulled her children tighter, shielding them with her body.

Maddie stepped forward, slow and deliberate, savoring the moment. “And to think you made it all this way just to kneel right before the finish line.”

Maddie raised her hand. She was holding a handgun.

“I still don’t see it,” she said, closing the distance between us. “Tell me, Agent Kane… What did you and Ronan do down there? He kept you alive longer than anyone, ever.”

I didn’t flinch. “Maybe I’m just hotter than everyone else.”

She smiled.

Then fired.

The shot hit me in the upper right chest. The force knocked me back a step. I gasped as a searing pain erupted across my shoulder and chest. I dropped to my knees.

One second, Maddie was smiling like this was still a conversation. The next, I was bleeding. I looked down—crimson streaked my skin, vivid and wet.

My hand was pressed against the wound as my fingers became slick with warmth.

“You mistake me for Ronan, Agent,” Maddie said, her voice suddenly cold. “I’m not as forgiving as he is.”

“Maddie.” Kang stepped in front of me, hands up. “Hey, we always got along. Let’s not do this, okay?”

“You’re right,” she said. “We did get along.” Her eyes flicked to me. “But your downfall is the one behind you. She has a habit of running her mouth. Just like Ronan. And look what happened to him.”

She took a step closer, followed by her bouncer security guard.

“She’ll be the death of you, Agent Kang. I guarantee it.”

“Kyle,” I said softly, “I’m bleeding out.”

He turned to Maddie, arms still raised. “Maddie, what do you want? What can we offer to make this right?”

She didn’t respond.

“You’re free to go,” he said quickly. “No one here is giving chase. Just let me get her to Knights Ferry. To the clinic. Let Dr. Coleman take care of her…” His voice cracked. “Please. I’m begging you.”

Maddie tilted her head as she eyed Kang, as if she were contemplating his offer. But then she raised her gun and aimed at me again. “I’m sorry. No deal.”

BOOM!

The front gate exploded inward as a black SUV rammed through it, metal bending like tinfoil.

Tires screamed as a dozen black SUVs tore through behind the lead, sending Maddie’s guards into full panic.

The driver’s side door of the lead SUV flew open, and a woman in a deputy’s uniform jumped out, shotgun raised, grinning like she’d been waiting for this moment.

“If I’m gonna lose my pension,” she called out, cocking the shotgun, “I might as well enjoy it.”

She fired, hitting Maddie square in the chest. Maddie flew back and hit the pavement with a heavy thud, groaning as she tried to crawl away.

Newport reached for his sidearm, but he only got it halfway out before a second shot caught him in the gut. He folded with a grunt, blood pooling beneath him as he writhed beside Maddie.

The deputy didn’t hesitate. She fired once more into both of them, and this time they went still.

I blinked, dazed, chest screaming in pain and my vision swimming. “Who is that?”

Kang dropped down beside me, applying pressure to my wound. “That,” he said, “is Appleton.”

72

Three days later…

A smile formed on Kang’s face as Ryan stepped through the entrance of UCSF Medical Center.

“Man, it’s good to see you,” Kang said, pulling him into a hug and slapping his back.

“You, too, Uncle Kyle.”

Kang leaned back, giving him a once-over. “Damn. You’re looking solid, like you’ve been lifting tanks.”

Ryan laughed. “Relax. I’m not going full bodybuilder. Still fluid like a ninja.” He threw a half-serious kung fu pose.

Kang threw an arm around him. “Glad you made it back so fast. I know the job doesn’t always play nice with real life.”

“Hey, I’m a son first. The job’s second. Does she know I’m here?”

“She knows we’ve spoken and I was coordinating with you to get back here. Lucy and Po Po are with her now.”

“That’s good.” Ryan paused for a moment, his face tightened. “How is she, seriously?”

“You know your mother. She’ll tell you she’s fine and is ready to get back to work even with a limb hanging by a thread, but this time, she’s fine. Bullet missed anything vital. It went clean through. She’ll have a scar, one of those badass ones she’ll end up proud of. Might need some PT, but all signs point to a full recovery.”

“Why don’t I doubt that? She’s the only person I know who can get shot nearly point-blank and want to get back into the office a few days later.”

“That’s your mother.”

“What about mentally? From what you told me over the phone, what she went through, being underground all that time with that lunatic…the psychological toll that must have had on her…” Ryan shook his head. “I can’t even imagine.”

Kang placed a comforting hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I’m not going to sugarcoat things. I’m worried about that as well. It’s too early to tell what effect it’ll have on her. Right now, she’s running on pure adrenaline. I’m going to advise her, softly, gently, to consider taking time off and talking to a therapist. I can run the office.”

“She’ll fight you on that.”

“I know. And that’s why having you weigh in will help. Your mother and I have been through a lot. But this…this is different. And yeah, I’m worried.”

“Wait a minute, how are you doing? You didn’t escape completely unscathed.”

“I’m fine. I’m seeing a therapist, just to make sure I’m okay. But Abby, she got the brunt of it.”

Ryan patted Kang’s shoulder. “You can count on me for anything. I’m here for you and her.”

“That helps. How long are you in town for?”

“I got a week off, but if I need to be here longer, I can make it work.”

“Good to know. I expect a lot of pushback from her. It’ll be harder for her to go up against both of us.”

Lucy was by my side, holding my hand while she told me all about the sponsorship deal she’d gotten from a cosmetics company. I was propped up in the hospital bed. Po Po stood off to the side, adjusting the blanket on my legs. We’d just finished eating. She’d brought some of my favorites: pork fried rice, oyster chicken, and garlic shrimp lo mein noodles.

“It’s super easy, I just need to make three TikToks and five stories,” she said.

“Wait, they’re paying you fifty thousand dollars for that?”

I was still amazed at how Lucy cultivated a successful career as a social media influencer. And she was pulling in straight A’s at USC while doing it.

“Well, it’s more because they wanted to have commercial use of the videos to use in their own marketing campaign.” Lucy smiled as she rubbed her two fingers together. “They need to pay more for that privilege.”

“I’m so proud of you.” I reached up, motioning for her to lean in for a hug.

Lucy had flown up to San Francisco as soon as Kang called her. It was only an hour’s flight from Los Angeles. She and Po Po had been at the hospital every day since my arrival.

The door swung open. Ryan stood there, his shoulders nearly touching the sides of the doorframe. My son had come back home.

“Hey, Abby,” he said as he came in for a hug.

I winced in pain as I hugged him hard. He grabbed Lucy and hugged us both for a moment before breaking for my mother-in-law.

“Po Po. Come here,” he said as he made his way around the bed and gave her a peck on the cheek and a hug.

Watching Ryan move through the room, embracing each of us like he’d never left, was pure joy. For a few seconds, the weight of everything—Darkside, Ronan, all I’d endured—lifted just enough for me to breathe comfortably again.

“I wish I’d come back for other reasons, but it’s good to be here,” he said as he took a seat next to the bed, grabbing my hand and holding on to it.

Having my two children, Po Po, and Kang all in the room, together, was the only medicine I needed right then.

73

Seven days later…

Craig Walsh, Special Agent in Charge of the Sacramento FBI office, had officially inherited the DarkBright investigation. And he wasn’t too pleased about it.

As far as he was concerned, this was clean-up duty. The kind of job they assigned when no one else wanted to deal with the mess. It didn’t help that he and SAC Abby Kane had never seen eye to eye. She was flashy, all headlines and field glamour. He was by the book. Quiet, but effective. He’d always thought her reputation far outpaced her performance and that her office soaked up more bureau attention than it deserved.

But with Kane out on medical leave and her partner, ASAC Kyle Kang, under internal review, the higher-ups needed someone to step in. Walsh’s office was nearby. Right place, wrong time.

Normally, Kane’s office would have retained jurisdiction. But after her and Kang’s initial debriefing with the deputy director and a task force out of Quantico, red flags went up. Enough concern was raised to justify pulling the case away from San Francisco’s field office and dropping it squarely into Walsh’s lap.

Now he had boots on the ground, dozens of them. This wasn’t a two-week containment. It was a multiagency operation that would stretch on for months.

The operation site was a logistic nightmare: a partially collapsed underground compound directly beneath the Hillside Estates subdivision. That detail alone raised eyebrows. Two communities, not side by side but stacked. One on top of the other. Who designed that? And why?

Then came the leak.

Despite the bureau’s best efforts to contain it, word got out. Every news outlet ran with it. The headline that stuck: “Mass Suicide in California Suburb.”

Hillside had nearly 150 homes. Entire families found dead in their beds, poisoned by cyanide. No notes or signs of struggle. It was as if they’d all quietly accepted it.

The press wasted no time drawing comparisons to Jonestown. Walsh hated the association, partly because it sensationalized the case but mostly because it wasn’t far off.

And then there was the city beneath the surface.

Darkside, as it was called by those who lived in it, was slowly being unearthed one body at a time. It wasn’t a shelter. It wasn’t a doomsday bunker. But there was enough infrastructure to keep a population alive indefinitely. Everything needed to sustain life underground had been accounted for.

Everything except a reason.

The one small mercy, for now, was that the more grotesque details like the bartering system and organ harvesting hadn’t reached the public. That part was still classified. As far as anyone knew, this was a bizarre cult suicide, not a human meat market.

Walsh hoped to keep it that way.

It was his job to find the truth. Or at least assemble something close enough that the bureau could sell to the media, to Congress, to grieving relatives. Everyone wanted answers.

And as far as Walsh’s superiors were concerned, Kane and Kang didn’t have them.

Recovery efforts were split into two groups: bodies and information. Information was the real prize, the thing that could explain what happened, who was behind it, and what came next. For Walsh, that was the silver lining. Crack it, and he wouldn’t just upstage Kane, he’d take the credit.

It was late, and Walsh and his team were still on-site, working nearly twenty-four hours a day. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow, his dress shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. He was inside the command center, a tented area set up away from the body recovery zone to avoid the smell.

The other end of the site was full of portable morgues and the forensic pathologists tracking and tagging the dead. Close to fifty bodies had been pulled from the rubble, and they were nowhere near done.

The command center was off limits to most, reserved for Walsh’s inner circle and the men he handpicked to comb through everything pulled from above and below. Laptops. Documents. Hard drives. Boxes of handwritten notes and printed schedules. Every item was tagged, cataloged, and reviewed. Walsh didn’t care if it was a receipt or a memo. Even the smallest scrap might lead to answers.

He was sipping his third coffee of the night when Assistant Special Agent in Charge Chris Dean stepped up beside him.

“You’re gonna want to see this.”

Walsh followed him to one of the long folding tables, where a laptop had been set up among piles of reports and evidence bags.

“The footage came from a damaged hard drive recovered at the compound,” Dean said. “Technicians managed to extract a partial clip.”

He motioned to the screen and hit play.

Footage of Agent Kane appeared. She was wearing a sleek cocktail dress, seated at a dining table with two men—one at the head of the table, the other across from her.

She wasn’t restrained.

She wasn’t bruised.

And she wasn’t being interrogated.

Instead, she was laughing and raising a glass of wine.

She leaned in toward one of the men and said something that made the table erupt in laughter. At one point, one of the men stood, took her hand, and twirled her into a dance, like they were at a wedding reception.

Walsh’s jaw clenched as he watched. Dean let it play a moment longer, pausing it just as Abby was dipped, her face inches from her partner’s.

“The man she’s dancing with is Ronan Dark. Lucian Thorne is at the table, watching.” Dean picked up a report and opened it. “It’s all in her statement. These are the men she identified as the ringleaders. The ones who abducted her, held her captive, and ran the organ-based barter cult.”

Walsh didn’t say anything at first. He stared at the screen.

Dean continued. “I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t look like someone fighting to survive. She’s not undercover. There’s no coded distress signal. She looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

Walsh finally tore his eyes away from the laptop and looked at Dean. “If you ask me, seems like Kane’s not a victim…she’s involved.”

74

Fifteen days later…

Kang’s tie was off. His sleeves were rolled. He looked exhausted but clear eyed. ASAC Chris Dean sat across from him, calm, affable, like this was just another internal check-in, but instead of meeting in a conference room, they were sitting in an interrogation office with cameras recording.

“We’ve reviewed your timeline of events,” Dean said, flipping a page in the file. “And I gotta tell you, Agent, the way you moved forward, you threw out procedure and cut corners sharper than a blade. You showed up at Hillside without a warrant. Trespassed. Broke into the recreation center without consent. And did it by attacking a janitor. The security footage we reviewed…it’s not kind.”

“Look, I can explain all that if⁠—”

“I’m not finished.” Dean didn’t even look up. “You entered a gated community and conducted an unauthorized search without clearance and failed to notify command at Quantico. You were operating without oversight, Agent Kang. Not even a courtesy call. And when your partner went missing, you said nothing. Isn’t watching each other’s backs the whole point of having a partner?”

“I was looking for Agent Kane, you know that. In the field, we make decisions on the fly, and I made the decision I thought was best.”

“Sure.” Dean gave a small shrug. “But that’s not how it reads on paper.”

Kang said nothing.

Dean leaned back in his chair. “You failed to report Agent Kane missing. In fact, the bureau was notified of her and your safety by a local deputy. Were you that busy that you couldn’t make that thirty-second call yourself?”

“They were using jammers. My phone didn’t work, and I was worried about Abby’s safety. I delegated.”

“Yeah, I saw that mentioned in your report. Maybe we’ll find these jammers just yet.”

Dean tilted his head and just stared at Kang, his thumb flicking the corner of the file.

“You were alone and off the grid. I get it. Things go sideways in the field, right? But here’s the thing: The only credible person who can back up your account of what happened at Hillside can’t do that because she was underground, separated from you. In fact, she came back wounded, shot right in front of you.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Do you still stick by your story that you were doing everything in your power to keep your partner safe?”

“I know how it looks, and you twisting it around isn’t helping. There is one other person besides me and Abby that knows what happened: Deputy Becket.”

“Oh yeah, the young deputy that helped you track down your partner. Well, we dug into him. The real Denny Becket died in 1952, in Butte, Montana. The man pretending to be him is a ghost as far as we can tell. Someone who didn’t exist until three years ago.”

“That can’t be true.” Kang’s gaze fell to the table in shock. “There’s got to be something we can find on him.”

Dean’s voice dropped. “Maybe, but whoever he is, someone went through a lot of trouble to make sure we’d never find out. So that’s not looking helpful at the moment. I hope for your sake, you got another card in that back pocket.”

75

The cold room was deliberate. An old trick used to rattle a person before questioning. That was my first clue this wasn’t routine.

I sat still, spine straight, hands folded on the table. I didn’t want to give Walsh the satisfaction of seeing me rub my arms or shiver.

He entered without looking at me, carrying a file. It was no secret that Walsh and I didn’t see eye to eye. We’d never liked each other. Walsh believed in chain of command and playing the political game. I believed in solving the cases, something he often failed to do.

He didn’t sit right away. He opened the file in front of him and flipped through it slowly, theatrically. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were just random papers inside that manila folder.

“Special Agent in Charge Abby Kane,” he said at last, lowering himself into the chair across from me. “Appreciate you making the time. I understand you’re still recovering.”

“I’m fine.”

No smile offered. “Glad to hear it. I’ll cut to the chase here and get right to the point.”

He slid a photo across the table. I didn’t have to look down. I knew exactly what it was before it reached me. Still, I made the effort to study it.

There I was, in that revealing cocktail dress, laughing and smiling with a wineglass in hand. It looked like a dinner party, not an abduction.

“You said you were taken against your will,” he said.

“I was.”

“You said you were being held captive.”

“That’s true.”

“You said Ronan Dark tortured people. Murdered them. Built a cult that traded loyalty for body parts.”

“He did.”

Walsh leaned forward and tapped the photo. “So how do you explain this?”

I didn’t answer right away. Because what could I say? The picture didn’t show the fear. The calculation. The constant threat pulsing just under the surface. All real, all experienced by me while I was being held there.

“You’ve taken a snapshot in time to make a point.”

“This is from recovered security footage. We can review it all if you want, even the part where you’re dancing and he dips you.”

“You weren’t there,” I said, keeping my voice calm.

“No,” he said. “But you were. And you seem awfully comfortable for someone claiming unlawful detainment.”

I stared him down, my gaze never wavering from him.

“If you think I was enjoying myself,” I said, “you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

He didn’t react. Just flipped through a few of the pages in his file.

“There are more photos,” he said. “More videos. You’re seen meeting with Ronan in his office and attending some sort of presentation in an auditorium. Did you enjoy teatime with Lucian?”

I didn’t flinch. He was taking everything at face value to paint a narrative. No context attached.

“And you know the problem, Agent Kane?” he continued, the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “There’s no one left to confirm your version of events. Not one living soul from down there. Just you and your story. Even your trusted partner can’t vouch for a single event in your report.”

And that was the mic drop.

The official report listed three more casualties at the front gates of Hillside: a woman and two children. I found out a few days later in the hospital. Sophia had been the one person who could’ve backed me up. But I didn’t feel betrayed. I felt gutted. She’d been so close to getting her kids out of that hell.

“The bureau needs facts. Verifiable ones,” Walsh went on. “And right now, nothing you’re saying is really panning out.”

The evidence was stacking up, and my witnesses were dead. As I sat across from a smirking Walsh, two things came to mind.

One: I was being set up for a fall.

Two: This man had no idea how hard I fight.

I smiled back. “You want facts? Here’s one. I never lose.”

76

The Fallout

Kang sat in his car outside the Sacramento field office. His hands were locked on the wheel as he replayed the interrogation on a loop. The questions about the decisions he’d made and the lines he’d crossed. None of it felt like an investigation into Darkside. It felt like a warm-up for a case against him.

He glanced at his phone. A dozen messages waited. None from anyone who mattered. Everyone who could’ve backed up his story was either dead or never existed.

Kang prided himself on sniffing out bullshit. But Becket? The guy had played him, clean and quiet. Maybe it was Abby’s disappearance. Maybe it was the race against the clock. Or maybe Becket was just that good.

Since that day, he had replayed nearly every interaction with Becket in his head. Hindsight really was the devil’s looking glass. It was all so clear now. Especially the moment he claimed to have lost the FBI number Kang gave him. The green, eager-beaver deputy had jerked his strings like a pro.

Kang leaned his head back and stared at the roof of the car, letting the situation sink in. The investigation had shifted from what happened at Hillside to what he had done. Walsh and his team weren’t after the truth about Darkside. They were building a case. Digging a hole meant for him and Abby.

Walsh said I was free to go. No explanation for the questioning, no clues as to how it fit into the investigation. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew where this was heading. I walked the hallway alone, my shoes too loud on the polished tile, drawing attention like it was a perp walk.

I stopped in the bathroom, not because I needed to but because I needed a second to breathe. To process. I gripped the edge of the sink and stared at the woman in the mirror, fluorescent lights casting shadows under my eyes.

During our conversation, Walsh never raised his voice or lost his temper. He didn’t need to. He had something far more effective—undeniable information. All he did was ask questions I couldn’t answer without sounding unstable, or worse, complicit.

Over the years, I’d built a career I was proud of. One that meant something. One that chased justice and truth. But now? I could see the shift. The slow, surgical dismantling of my credibility. One video clip at a time.

Walsh didn’t say I was guilty. He didn’t have to. The questions, the footage, and my answers: The story was already being written.

I turned on the faucet and splashed water on my face, but it didn’t wash anything away. Not the doubt. Not the look Walsh had given me. Not the silence that lingered. And certainly not the way every question felt like a judgment.

I had become the lone woman yelling DarkBright.

And to everyone, I made zero sense.

Click to continue the series: In the thrilling sequel to this trilogy, FBI Agents Abby Kane and Kyle Kang are desperately trying to clear their names by proving what really happened in Hillside Estates. But the deeper they dig, the more they realize DarkBright wasn’t just a cult. It was the start of something far more calculating.

A Note From Ty Hutchinson

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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Published by Ty Hutchinson

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Cover Art: Damonza