The safe house
818 Words
Chapter 20
The rain poured relentlessly as Ethan drove down a deserted country road.
Sheriff Brooks sat in the back seat, pressing a blood-soaked cloth against his shoulder. Every bump in the road made him wince, but he refused to complain.
Amora sat silently in the passenger seat, staring at the photograph Adrian Voss had thrown onto the station floor.
Noah.
Alive.
Or at least… he had been three months ago.
Her fingers traced the edges of the worn photograph.
“It can’t be real,” she whispered.
Ethan glanced at her.
“We don’t know that.”
“It could have been edited.”
“It could have been taken years ago.”
“But if it wasn’t…”
Neither of them finished the sentence.
⸻
An hour later, Ethan turned onto a narrow gravel road hidden behind a line of pine trees.
At the end stood a modest stone cottage surrounded by dense woodland.
“No one knows about this place,” Ethan said.
“It belonged to my grandmother.”
He helped Sheriff Brooks inside and laid him gently on an old sofa.
“We need to remove the bullet.”
The sheriff managed a weak smile.
“I was hoping you’d say we needed a doctor.”
“You are the doctor tonight,” Ethan replied.
⸻
Nearly forty minutes later, the bullet had been removed.
Brooks leaned back, pale but stable.
“You’ve gotten better,” he said.
“I’ve had practice.”
Amora looked up.
“You know first aid that well?”
Ethan cleaned the blood from his hands.
“My father was a military medic before…”
His voice trailed off.
“Before the Raven Circle.”
The room fell silent.
⸻
Later that evening, the three of them gathered around the cottage’s fireplace.
The steel case sat on the table.
So did Jonathan Cole’s diary.
The Raven Files.
Noah’s letter.
And the mysterious photograph.
Sheriff Brooks picked it up carefully.
“This fence…”
He frowned.
“I’ve seen it before.”
Amora leaned forward.
“Where?”
“It surrounds an abandoned government research facility just outside Blackwood.”
“I thought it was closed years ago.”
“It was.”
Brooks looked uneasy.
“Officially.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“You think Noah was there?”
“I think someone wanted him there.”
⸻
Amora opened the steel case again.
Beneath the documents, she noticed something they had overlooked during the chaos at the station.
A false bottom.
“Ethan…”
He carefully lifted the thin metal panel.
Hidden beneath it was a small velvet pouch.
Inside…
A silver pendant shaped like a raven.
Its wings were spread wide.
On the back were engraved three tiny words.
The truth waits.
Claire picked up the pendant.
“It opens.”
She twisted it gently.
The pendant clicked open like a locket.
Inside was an impossibly small memory card.
Ethan smiled for the first time in days.
“Noah was smarter than we thought.”
Amora’s eyes filled with hope.
“If that’s a backup…”
“…then maybe he recorded everything.”
⸻
Just as Ethan reached for his laptop—
The cottage lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the entire house went dark.
Silence.
Only the crackling fireplace remained.
“What happened?” Claire whispered.
Sheriff Brooks struggled to his feet.
“The power doesn’t fail out here.”
Ethan reached for his flashlight.
“It was cut.”
A loud metallic clang echoed from outside.
Someone had closed the front gate.
Then came another sound.
Footsteps.
Crunching slowly over wet gravel.
One.
Then several more.
Ethan moved toward the window, keeping below the sill.
He carefully lifted the curtain just enough to see outside.
His expression hardened.
“They’re here.”
Amora’s pulse quickened.
“How many?”
He counted silently.
“…At least twelve.”
Claire’s face turned white.
“How did they find us?”
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his eyes drifted to the photograph still lying on the table.
Then to the steel case.
Then…
To the blinking red light hidden beneath its handle.
His heart sank.
“The tracker.”
Adrian hadn’t been following them.
They had brought him here themselves.
Outside, headlights flooded the cottage.
A voice boomed through a loudspeaker.
“Amora Cole.”
“This is your last chance.”
“Bring us the memory card…”
“…or we burn the cottage to the ground.”
Amora looked at Ethan.
He met her gaze.
Then, without a word…
He reached out and took her hand.
Not out of romance.
Not yet.
But as a promise.
“We’re getting out of this together.”
For the first time, Amora didn’t pull away.
She squeezed his hand back.
“We will.”
Outside, a bottle filled with gasoline crashed through the front window.
The curtains erupted into flames.
- Writer
