BROTHERS

CHAPTER FOUR-THE HUNT(Part II)

The words hung inside the truck.

Heavy.

Unwelcome.

Impossible.

Victor works for somebody.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Even the engine seemed quieter.

Even the city seemed farther away.

Ex stared at Samuel.

Samuel stared back.

The ghost looked shaken.

Genuinely shaken.

Which immediately made the situation worse.

Because Samuel wasn't reckless.

Samuel wasn't dramatic.

Samuel wasn't prone to panic.

If he looked terrified—

There was usually a reason.

Nelisha broke the silence first.

"What did he say?"

Ex looked at her.

Then at Samuel.

Then back again.

"He says Victor isn't the top."

The truck became quiet again.

This time for a different reason.

Because Nelisha's expression changed.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

And Ex immediately noticed.

Samuel noticed too.

The ghost slowly turned toward her.

Eyes narrowing.

Thinking.

Remembering.

"You know something."

Ex said it before he could stop himself.

Nelisha's jaw tightened.

That was answer enough.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

"You know something."

Ex repeated.

Nelisha leaned back in her seat.

Stared through the windshield.

Thinking carefully.

Choosing her words.

Or trying to decide whether she should say them at all.

Finally—

"I've heard stories."

Not a denial.

Ex immediately leaned forward.

"What stories?"

She laughed softly.

Without humor.

Without comfort.

Without reassurance.

"The kind nobody repeats twice."

A pause.

"The kind people whisper."

Another pause.

"The kind that gets people buried."

The atmosphere inside the truck changed instantly.

Because those weren't rumors anymore.

Those were warnings.

Samuel looked deeply uncomfortable.

Like he remembered enough to understand.

But not enough to explain.

"I used to run messages."

Nelisha continued.

The old gang-member voice returning.

The voice of somebody who had seen things.

Done things.

Survived things.

"Sometimes information moved through us."

"What information?"

"Names."

The answer came immediately.

"Payments."

"Meetings."

"Orders."

The final word landed differently.

Orders.

Not requests.

Not suggestions.

Orders.

Ex felt his stomach tighten.

Nelisha stared at the photograph.

At Roland Mercer.

At Victor.

At six men frozen in time.

"Every few years a name would surface."

Her voice lowered.

"Nobody knew who he was."

"Nobody knew where he lived."

"Nobody knew what he looked like."

Another pause.

"But everyone knew one thing."

Ex waited.

"So did we."

Samuel whispered.

Almost to himself.

Nelisha nodded slowly.

As though she had reached the same memory.

The same conclusion.

"Everybody answered to him."

Silence.

The city suddenly felt much bigger.

And much darker.

Because empires always had kings.

And apparently Victor Veyron wasn't one.

He was merely another piece.

Another soldier.

Another servant.

The realization changed everything.

Until now Ex's revenge had a face.

A name.

A target.

Jefferson.

Victor.

The Veyrons.

Now?

Now the horizon had expanded.

Dangerously.

Samuel suddenly winced.

Hard.

A memory slammed into him.

Violent.

Powerful.

Clear.

The ghost grabbed the dashboard.

Not because he needed support.

Because something was happening.

"Sam?"

The ghost didn't answer.

His eyes were unfocused.

Looking somewhere else.

Somewhere far away.

A memory.

A complete one.

For the first time.

Eight Months Earlier

Rain hammered the coastline.

The lighthouse stood against crashing waves.

Old.

Abandoned.

Forgotten.

Samuel stood inside.

Not alone.

Leon Graves stood beside him.

The memory sharpened.

Focused.

Expanded.

"You shouldn't be here."

Leon sounded afraid.

Genuinely afraid.

Samuel laughed.

Young.

Confident.

Alive.

"Then tell me what they're hiding."

Leon looked exhausted.

Like a man carrying secrets too heavy to hold.

"Samuel."

His voice broke slightly.

"Some doors shouldn't be opened."

Samuel walked deeper into the lighthouse.

Toward a hidden room.

Toward something concealed.

Protected.

Buried.

Then—

The memory shattered.

Samuel gasped.

Returning to the present.

The truck.

The city.

Ex.

Nelisha.

Reality.

The ghost stared at his brother.

"I was there."

"What?"

"The lighthouse."

His voice shook.

"I found something."

Ex's pulse quickened instantly.

"What?"

"I don't know."

The frustration returned.

"But I found something."

Samuel clenched his fists.

"Something important."

"Something huge."

The certainty in his voice chilled everyone.

Because even without remembering—

He knew.

Whatever waited inside that lighthouse—

Had started all of this.

The recruitment.

The surveillance.

The threats.

The ambush.

The murder.

Everything.

Nelisha suddenly started the truck again.

The engine growled.

Ex looked at her.

"What are you doing?"

She shifted gears.

The answer came immediately.

"We're going to the lighthouse."

Samuel immediately nodded.

"Agreed."

Ex stared at both of them.

Neither looked uncertain.

Neither looked hesitant.

And that worried him.

Because reckless plans usually required him.

Not everyone else.

The truck pulled back onto the road.

Night deepened around the city.

Streetlights gave way to darker highways.

Industrial districts gave way to coastline roads.

The urban sprawl slowly disappeared behind them.

For the first time since Samuel's death—

They weren't chasing revenge.

They were chasing answers.

And answers, Ex was beginning to realize—

Might be far more dangerous.

Thirty minutes later—

The truck crested a hill.

The coastline appeared below.

Black water.

White waves.

Jagged cliffs.

And far in the distance—

A silhouette stood against the moonlight.

Tall.

Lonely.

Ancient.

A lighthouse.

Samuel stared at it.

Frozen.

Then whispered:

"Oh no."

Ex immediately looked at him.

"What?"

The ghost didn't answer.

Because another memory had just returned.

And this one wasn't about secrets.

Or evidence.

Or conspiracies.

This one was about a body.

A dead body.

Buried beneath the lighthouse.

A body Samuel himself had discovered.

A body that should never have existed.

The lighthouse stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean.

Ancient.

Silent.

Watching.

The beam that once guided ships had died years ago.

Now only moonlight touched its stone walls.

The structure looked abandoned.

Forgotten.

Dead.

Just like the secrets buried beneath it.

The pickup truck rolled to a stop.

Nobody moved immediately.

The engine ticked softly as it cooled.

Outside, waves crashed against the rocks below.

The sound echoed through the night.

Relentless.

Unforgiving.

Ex stared at Samuel.

The ghost hadn't spoken in nearly five minutes.

Not since the memory surfaced.

Not since he'd remembered the body.

"Talk to me."

Samuel remained silent.

Eyes fixed on the lighthouse.

"Sam."

The ghost finally looked at him.

And Ex didn't like what he saw.

Fear.

Real fear.

"I remember finding him."

The words came quietly.

Almost unwillingly.

"Who?"

Samuel swallowed.

Or mimicked swallowing.

"I don't know."

Ex groaned.

"I'm serious."

Samuel snapped.

The emotion surprised everyone.

Including himself.

"I remember the body."

"I remember the face."

"I remember Leon."

A pause.

"But I don't know who he was."

The frustration was obvious.

Samuel looked like a man trapped inside his own mind.

Watching memories through broken glass.

Nelisha killed the engine.

The sudden silence felt enormous.

Then she opened her door.

"We're wasting time."

Practical.

Direct.

Classic Nelisha.

Ex climbed out.

Cold ocean wind hit immediately.

Strong enough to sting.

Strong enough to make the cliff feel dangerous.

Samuel appeared beside him.

Staring upward.

The lighthouse towered above them.

And for the first time—

Ex noticed something strange.

The front door wasn't boarded shut.

Someone maintained it.

Someone used it.

Recently.

"That's not abandoned."

Nelisha noticed too.

Fresh tire marks.

Fresh footprints.

Fresh chains on the gate.

Not abandoned at all.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Samuel's expression darkened.

"I've been here recently."

Ex looked at him.

"What?"

The ghost pointed.

"The footprints."

A pause.

"I remember making those."

That was impossible.

The footprints were fresh.

Recent.

Maybe a few days old.

Samuel had been dead for weeks.

The realization hit all three simultaneously.

Someone else had been coming here.

Someone connected to Samuel.

Someone alive.

A terrible possibility.

Or a very useful one.

The gate creaked open.

Nobody had locked it.

That bothered Ex.

Because hidden places usually protected themselves.

This place almost seemed inviting.

As if someone expected visitors.

Or wanted them.

The path wound upward.

Stone steps carved into the cliffside.

Weathered by decades of storms.

Halfway up—

Samuel froze.

Again.

Another memory.

This one stronger than before.

Eight Months Earlier

Rain.

Darkness.

The lighthouse.

Samuel descending stairs.

Deep beneath the structure.

Far below ground level.

A hidden chamber.

Leon beside him.

Terrified.

A body on the floor.

Dead.

Very dead.

And carved into the man's chest—

A symbol.

A lighthouse.

The exact same symbol from the photograph.

Then another figure entered the room.

A woman.

Tall.

Dark coat.

Silver hair.

Her face remained blurry.

Unclear.

Impossible to focus on.

But her voice—

Samuel remembered her voice perfectly.

"Now you understand."

The memory shattered.

Samuel stumbled backward.

The present returned.

The ocean.

The cliff.

The night.

Ex grabbed his shoulder automatically.

Then remembered.

Ghost.

His hand passed through.

Samuel barely noticed.

"There was a woman."

"What woman?"

"I don't know."

The answer came immediately.

Followed by frustration.

"But she was important."

Everything was important lately.

That was becoming the problem.

They finally reached the entrance.

The lighthouse door stood partially open.

Not forced.

Not broken.

Open.

Someone had been here.

Recently.

Nelisha pulled a flashlight from her truck.

"Stay close."

Ex almost laughed.

"We're walking into a secret lighthouse connected to a criminal empire."

"Close stopped being an option."

Fair point.

They entered.

Dust covered the ground floor.

Old machinery sat rusting in corners.

Broken furniture.

Dead wiring.

At first glance—

Nothing unusual.

Then Samuel pointed.

"There."

A bookshelf.

Old.

Heavy.

Built into the wall.

Ex approached.

Examined it.

Nothing obvious.

Then he noticed scratch marks.

Fresh ones.

The shelf moved.

Recently.

Very recently.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Nelisha found the mechanism first.

A metal latch hidden behind a loose brick.

She pulled it.

A loud click echoed through the tower.

The bookshelf shifted.

Slowly.

Revealing darkness beyond.

A staircase.

Leading underground.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody needed to.

Because every instinct screamed the same thing.

This was what Samuel had found.

This was the secret.

This was why he died.

The stairs descended deep beneath the lighthouse.

Far deeper than the structure should allow.

The air changed.

Cooler.

Heavier.

Older.

The deeper they went—

The more wrong the place felt.

Finally the staircase ended.

A steel door waited below.

Unlike everything else—

The door was modern.

Expensive.

Maintained.

Someone cared about it.

A lot.

Ex reached for the handle.

Locked.

Of course.

Then Samuel suddenly smiled.

A strange smile.

A remembering smile.

"I know the code."

Both Ex and Nelisha turned instantly.

"What?"

For the first time in weeks—

Samuel looked certain.

Absolutely certain.

The memory had survived.

The ghost stepped closer.

Staring at the keypad.

Then spoke four numbers.

"Seven."

"Three."

"One."

"Nine."

Ex entered them.

The keypad flashed green.

And somewhere inside the darkness—

A lock disengaged.

A heavy metallic clunk echoed through the chamber.

Nobody moved.

Because that simple sound confirmed everything.

Samuel had been here.

Samuel had found this place.

And whatever waited beyond that door—

Was important enough for people to kill to protect it.

Ex slowly pulled the handle.

The door opened.

Inside waited a room filled with filing cabinets.

Computer servers.

Photographs.

Documents.

Boxes.

Thousands upon thousands of records.

An archive.

A hidden archive.

And directly opposite the entrance—

Mounted on the far wall—

Hung the same photograph from Samuel's envelope.

Only larger.

Much larger.

The six men stared down at them.

And beneath the photograph—

In bold black letters—

Were three words.

THE LIGHTHOUSE SOCIETY

Nelisha stopped breathing.

Samuel went completely still.

Because suddenly he remembered the dead man.

Not his face.

Not his name.

His title.

And that title changed everything.

Samuel looked at Ex.

Horror filling his expression.

Then whispered:

"The dead man..."

A pause.

"...was one of the six."