Page 159 of Symphony for Lies

Silence.

I was about to hang up, but she said,“He always praisedher.”

A vice clenched around my chest.

“Gilbert never praised anyone unless he truly believed they were special.”

My teeth ground together. “She is special. She’s brilliant. She’s… more than that.”

“Zane, I never said she wasn’t. My pride just made me blind to what actually mattered.”Her voice was quiet, regretful.“Gilbert once told me Amelia reminded him of his daughter. Listen to me,”she pleaded.“This is dangerous. Please. Just come home.”

I shook my head furiously. “I won’t run from this. Amelia didn’t. And neither will I.”

Ihung up.

I never told my family about my own abduction. Not because I was ashamed but because I knew they’d use it as another reason to blame Amelia. To twist the narrative.

I wouldn’t let them.

My phone vibrated again.A voice message from my mother.

My fingers hovered over the screen for a second before I opened it.

“Zane… I was thinking. There’s something else…Gilbert had a strange way of talking about music. He believed it was a bridge. A transition between the living and the dead. He thought certain sounds could guide a soul.”

A cold chill slithered down my spine.

“I don’t know what he’s planning to do with Amelia, but if he sees her as some kind of salvation,you need to hurry. Now.”

The message ended.

I stared at the screen.

Salvation.

A violent rage tore through my chest as I slammed my foot down on the gas.

Spencer cleared his throat, fingers flying over his phone. “It looks like you were right.” He barely glanced up as he kept typing. “I’m alerting my team. We’re locking down the entire perimeter. No exits. No escape routes. We’ll trap this son of a bitch and bring Amelia home.”

I nodded, his determination anchoring the chaos inside me. “Thank you.”

Spencer scoffed, “Don’t thank me yet.”

We were running on a guess.

Even if I was wrong, I’d rip apart every inch of the city until I found her.

The area was swallowed in darkness. Only the dull glow of a few streetlights cast flickering patches of light, barely illuminating the towering building before us.

But it was too quiet.

No wind chimes. No soft, eerie clinking of metal in the breeze. Just the low whistling of the wind as it slithered through the barren trees and coiled around the tall hedges of the labyrinth.

Something wasn’t right.

I parked the car and stepped out, my body thrumming with adrenaline. Spencer followed, just as tense.

“The chimes should be ringing.”

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