WHISPERS IN THE DARK
268 Words
The rain had started again by the time Nathaniel walked me to my car.
The air was cool, damp, and heavy with the scent of wet earth.
“You handled yourself well in there,” he said quietly, glancing back toward the house where Ryan still lingered in the dining room.
“That was nothing,” I replied, sliding my hands into my coat pockets. “Ryan’s been worse.”
Nathaniel’s gaze was steady, but there was something else in it—concern, maybe. “Don’t underestimate him. Men like Ryan… they don’t play fair.”
I leaned against the car door. “And men like you? Do you?”
His lips curved, not quite a smile. “I play to win.”
Before I could respond, he slipped a folded piece of paper into my palm.
“Read it when you’re alone,” he murmured. “And burn it after.”
The paper felt light, harmless—until I realized his hand lingered just a second too long, as if making sure I wouldn’t refuse.
Nathaniel turned and walked away, his dark figure swallowed by the shadows.
When I finally unfolded the note under the dim glow of the dashboard light, my breath caught.
It wasn’t a message.
It was a photograph—grainy, taken at night, and unmistakable.
Ryan.
Standing beside a man I didn’t recognize.
Shaking hands over something wrapped in black cloth.
The edges of the photo were smudged, as if handled too often, but one thing was clear—
Whatever Ryan was involved in… it was dangerous.
And now, I was holding proof.
- Writer
