Chapter 89: What the Light Revealed
The first hint of morning crept into the cabin as a pale, washed‑out gray — not warm, not comforting, just enough light to make the shadows look thinner. Emery blinked awake on the couch, her neck stiff, her blanket tangled around her legs. Brent was still in the armchair, eyes open, posture unchanged from the night before.
He hadn’t slept.
Not even for a moment.
“Brent,” she whispered.
He looked at her, and the exhaustion in his eyes wasn’t physical — it was the kind that came from holding the world up all night.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
But she could tell he wasn’t.
Jonah stepped out of the hallway, hair a mess, face pale, eyes swollen from a night of half‑sleep and fear. “Is it morning?”
Brent stood. “Yeah.”
Jonah swal
