The rain hadn’t stopped since we left the motel. It fell in sheets, turning the narrow dirt road into a river of mud. Every sound felt louder in the storm — the slap of our shoes, the rasp of our breathing, the weight of our silence. Adrian’s grip on my hand was firm, his pace relentless, like if he slowed down for even a second, the world would catch up.
We didn’t speak until we reached the old bridge that crossed the ravine. The wooden planks creaked under our weight. Below, the river surged, wild and swollen from the rain. Adrian stopped halfway across, pulling the flash drive from his pocket. The small object gleamed faintly under the storm’s dim light.
“This is all that’s left of him,” he said, his voice barely audible above the thunder. “Everything Daniel built. Every lie, every li
