The drive to the abandoned church was quiet. Cain sat in the passenger seat, staring out of the window, his fingers nervously tapping against his knee. The bruises on his face had darkened, making him look worse than before, but he barely seemed to notice his injuries. His mind was elsewhere—probably on the notebook.
The air was heavy with unspoken words, but I didn’t push him. Not yet.
Instead, I focused on the road, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I maneuvered through the dimly lit streets. As we left the city behind, the surroundings became eerily silent, the only sound being the hum of the engine.
Finally, after nearly an hour, Cain motioned towards an old, broken-down building surrounded by dead trees. The wooden structure looked like it could collapse at any second, and th
