The House on Maple Street
1673 Words
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Slade didn't move. Didn't blink. His hand remained on the door handle, frozen mid-motion. The garage was silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of traffic.
"Say that again," Slade said.
Kane's face was pale. His hands were shaking. "The night Mira died... I was ordered to leave her. The order came through an encrypted channel. I traced it later. It originated from a terminal linked to your father's network."
"You're lying."
"I wish I was."
Slade turned slowly. His eyes were flat, empty. The kind of emptiness that came before violence. "You told me you cut the rope because command gave the order. Now you're saying my father gave that order?"
"Yes."
"And you've known this for how long?"
"Three years. I found out a few months after it happened. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to destroy you. You were already broken. I thought... I thought if you knew the truth, you'd fall apart."
"Instead you let me carry the guilt. You let me believe it was my fault."
"I know. I was wrong."
Slade's fist shot out, connecting with Kane's jaw.
The blow sent Kane staggering backward. He hit the wall and slid down, blood trickling from his lip.
Slade stood over him, breathing hard. His knuckles were raw. "You had no right. No right to make that decision for me."
Kane wiped his mouth. "I know. But I'd do it again. Because the truth would have killed you faster than any bullet."
"Don't you dare pretend you were protecting me."
"I'm not pretending. I'm telling you the truth for the first time in three years." Kane looked up at him. "Your father ordered Mira's death. I don't know why. Maybe she knew too much. Maybe she was a threat. But he made the call, and I followed it because I was a soldier and that's what soldiers do."
Slade's fists clenched. His whole body was trembling.
Sloane stepped forward. "Slade. We don't have time for this. Your father is dying. If you want answers, we need to get to him before he does."
Slade didn't move.
She put a hand on his arm. "Listen to me. You can beat him to death later. But right now, he's the only one who knows the truth about Mira. The real truth. Not Kane's version. Not the Society's version. His."
Slade's breathing slowed. The rage subsided, replaced by a cold, dead calm.
"Get up," he said to Kane.
Kane stood, wincing.
"You're coming with us. You're going to look my father in the eye and tell him what you told me. Then we'll see what he has to say."
Kane nodded.
Slade turned to the others. "Ember, you stay with Dante. Monitor communications. If anything changes, call me."
"I'm coming with you," Ember said.
"No. You're not."
"I'm the one who brought you the information about your father. I have a right to be there."
"You have a right to stay alive." Slade's voice was final. "Stay here. That's an order."
Ember opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She nodded.
Sloane grabbed her gear. "I'm coming. Someone has to watch your back when you inevitably lose your mind."
Slade didn't argue. He walked out of the garage, Kane and Sloane following.
---
The house on Maple Street looked exactly as Slade remembered.
Two stories. White siding, peeling in places. A porch swing that creaked in the wind. A small garden that had long since been overtaken by weeds. The house had been empty for years, waiting for a buyer who never came.
Slade parked across the street and sat in the darkness, staring at the place where he'd grown up.
Memories flooded back. His father teaching him to ride a bike on this very road. His mother baking cookies in the kitchen. Christmas mornings. Birthday parties. All of it now tainted by the knowledge that the man who had been there for every moment was a liar.
"Are you going in?" Sloane asked.
"Give me a minute."
"You've had enough minutes. Your father is inside. He's dying. If you don't talk to him now, you might never get the chance."
Slade got out of the SUV.
The front door was unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
The house smelled of dust and old memories. Furniture covered in white sheets. A grandfather clock that had stopped ticking years ago. The same hardwood floors he'd walked on as a child.
A light flickered from the living room.
Slade walked toward it.
Zane Crowe sat in an armchair by the fireplace, a blanket over his legs. He was thinner than Slade remembered, his skin gray and drawn. A portable oxygen tank sat beside him, tubes running to his nose.
He looked up as Slade entered. His eyes were tired but alert.
"You came," Zane said. His voice was weak, barely above a whisper.
Slade didn't sit. He stood in the center of the room, arms at his sides. "Kane told me you ordered Mira's death."
Zane didn't flinch. "I was wondering when that would come up."
"Was it true?"
"Yes."
The word hit Slade like a physical blow. He'd expected denial. Excuses. Anything but the simple, brutal truth.
"Why?"
Zane leaned forward, wincing. The oxygen tubes rattled. "Mira was a member of the Society. She was embedded in Glass Table to monitor our operations. She was feeding information to the Society for years."
"That's not possible."
"It's true. I found out during the Caucasus mission. The Society had given her orders to eliminate you and Kane. She was going to do it. I had to stop her."
"By having her killed?"
"By protecting my son." Zane's eyes met Slade's. "I didn't want to do it. She was a good agent. But she was compromised. If she'd succeeded, you'd be dead. And I'd have lost the only thing that mattered to me."
Slade's voice was cold. "You could have warned me. You could have told me the truth."
"And risk exposing myself? The Society was watching. If they'd known I was working against them, they would have killed both of us." Zane coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "I did what I had to do."
"You killed my partner."
"I killed a threat. There's a difference."
Slade's hands clenched into fists. "I spent three years blaming myself. Three years of nightmares. Three years of drinking myself to sleep. And you let me believe it was my fault."
"I had to. If you'd known the truth, you would have gone after the Society too early. You weren't ready. You needed to be tested. Strengthened. Forged into something that could survive."
Slade took a step forward. "You don't get to justify this. You don't get to pretend you were protecting me."
"I'm not pretending. I'm explaining." Zane's voice cracked. "I'm dying, son. I have months, maybe weeks. I needed to make sure you were ready. Ready to take control of the Society. Ready to destroy it from the inside. Ready to finish what I started."
"I don't want your legacy."
"Too late. It's already yours."
Slade turned away, pacing the room. His mind was a storm of anger, grief, and confusion.
Kane appeared in the doorway. His lip was still swollen, his eyes hard. "He's telling the truth about Mira. I checked the records. She was a Society asset."
Sloane stepped past him, her weapon drawn. "We have a problem. There's a van approaching. Two blocks out. No lights."
Slade looked at his father. "You were followed."
Zane nodded slowly. "I was waiting for them. I knew they'd find me eventually. I just needed enough time to talk to you."
"We need to go. Now."
"No." Zane stood, gripping the armchair for support. "You're leaving. I'm staying."
"Dad—"
"They'll kill you if you stay. They want me, not you. I'll buy you time." Zane reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key. "This is for a safety deposit box at the First National Bank. Account number 7349. Inside, you'll find everything. Names. Locations. Plans. Everything you need to destroy the Society."
Slade took the key. His hand was shaking. "I'm not leaving you."
"You don't have a choice." Zane's eyes softened. "I'm proud of you, Slade. I always have been. Now go. Finish this."
The van screeched to a halt outside. Doors opened. Footsteps.
Slade grabbed his father's arm. "Come with me. We can fight them together."
"No. I'm too weak. I'll slow you down." Zane pushed him away. "Go. Now."
Kane grabbed Slade's shoulder. "He's right. We have to move."
Slade hesitated. One last look at his father. The man who had lied to him. The man who had killed Mira. The man who had loved him.
"I'll find you," Slade said. "When this is over, I'll find you."
Zane smiled. "I'm counting on it."
Slade ran.
---
Gunfire erupted behind them as they burst through the back door.
Slade, Kane, and Sloane sprinted across the yard, vaulting the fence. They hit the ground running, bullets whistling past their heads.
The SUV was still parked across the street. They dove in, engine roaring to life.
Slade drove. He didn't look back.
The house on Maple Street disappeared in the rearview mirror. Gunfire continued. Then silence.
"I'll send someone back for him," Kane said.
"Don't bother. He made his choice." Slade's voice was flat. "We'll find him when the Society is gone."
He pulled over a block away. His hands were shaking on the wheel.
Sloane leaned forward. "What happens next?"
Slade pulled out the key. The safety deposit box. His father's final gift.
"Next," he said, "we burn it all down."
His phone buzzed.
**Unknown:** The house is surrounded. Your father is in our custody. If you ever want to see him alive again, you'll follow my instructions.
**Unknown:** The Bishop awaits.
**Unknown:** Tick tock.
Slade stared at the message.
The game had just changed.
- Writer
