Page 42 of Whispers in the Dark
The safe housewasn’t marked on any map. It was tucked into a stretch of forest an hour outside town—no driveways, no utilities, no roads leading directly to it. You had to know where to look. And Rook always did.
The cabin was small. Concrete bones beneath a false wooden shell. Secure, soundproof, rigged with a generator and hardline encryption ports. No wireless. No traceable power draw. Just the hum of cold air and control.
It felt like his father—precise, efficient, unflinching.
Despite his incarceration, Gideon Ward’s influence still pulsed through the world outside his cell.
He didn’t issue orders. He didn’t need to.
He had planted ideas, beliefs in the minds of those he’d broken and rebuilt. Rook, his son, was his most loyal echo. Trained not just in skill, but in philosophy. Ward’s reach came not through direct command but through conviction. Rook carried out the work with precision, acting on patterns his father had laid down years prior.
Each action was a ripple in Ward’s design, still unfolding.
Rook stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He hung his coat on the same hook he always used and pulled off his gloves. He crossed the room to the reinforced desk bolted into the far corner.
A black box sat atop it—sleek, matte, nothing visibly remarkable. But it was the last active relay left from GideonWard’s private network. Untouched. Hidden from Monroe’s systems. Still loyal to its original directive.
Rook flipped the switch. The screen lit with a pale blue glow. The cursor blinked. Waiting. He picked up the secure handset and typed in the encrypted sequence—eight characters, unique to him.
ELWRD75
A prompt appeared:
STATUS?
He typed:
It’s done. Charlotte has him.
Another blink.
LOCATION?
Rook hesitated only a second, then typed:
Her back porch. She’ll find him.
He didn’t need to explain further. Gideon had built this system for truths that couldn’t be said out loud. Every word meant something else. Every message had a double edge. The screen blinked once more. Then:
INITIATE NEXT PHASE?
Rook stared at that line a long time.
He remembered Byron’s face. The barely there flicker of a man who once stood tall beside Charlotte in uniform. What was left of him now was little more than a symbol—one Rook delivered with surgical precision.
He set the handset down. Didn’t type anything. Not yet.
Instead, he walked to the shelf above the desk. A plain wooden ledge. On it was a single photo: Gideon Ward, years younger, standing in front of the original Holloway Motel site. Back before they stopped pretending it was ever about healing.
Rook looked at his father’s face. Then, quietly, under his breath, he said, “Dad, I’m not done.”
It wasafter three a.m. when Alex walked into Sophie and Tristan’s home with Charlotte. Ethan and Brad were sitting in the living room, waiting. Brad glanced up.
“Izzy and Ruth are asleep upstairs; Liv and Jackson went into work. And you know Molly was called in.” Brad’s eyes found Charlotte. "I’m sorry." He paused. "Bailey is in the guest room across from the master bedroom."
Alex nodded and gently guided Charlotte upstairs. When they reached the guest bedroom, Bailey was already waiting at the door, tail wagging softly. Charlotte crouched to stroke his fur, drawing a breath that trembled more than she wanted to admit.
Alex leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Get in bed. I’ll be up soon."
