The briefcase felt heavier than it should have, like it was packed not with documents but with everything I never wanted to face.
Christopher Vale.
My father’s initials stared up at me, burned into the leather like a brand from the past. It was as if he were reaching out from the grave, whispering: You need to see. You need to know.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to.
But I couldn’t run from it anymore.
“Come inside,” Liam said gently, his voice low but steady. “It’s not safe out here.”
I nodded, too numb to speak, and followed him into the cabin. The air inside was still, thick with the scent of old pine, burnt wood, and secrets. The fire crackled softly in the corner, the only thing alive in a house full of ghosts.
We sat across from each other at the dining
