Shadows In The Dark

The weight of the list Margaret had given them pressed on Celeste's mind like a lead weight. The names scrawled in James Holloway's unsteady handwriting weren't just relics of the past—they were the remnants of a cover-up that had lasted for more than seventy-five years.

And some of the men on that list were still alive.

Still in power.

As Adrian drove them back to his office, Celeste stared at the slip of paper in her lap. Councilman Richard Vaughn. He had been in politics for as long as she could remember, a fixture in Port Bellingham's government. But she had never questioned how he had risen to power. Had he been rewarded for his silence?

Or had he helped orchestrate the cover-up?

Adrian pulled into the parking garage beneath his firm's sleek modern building, cutting the engine. "We need more than this list. If we're going to take this public, we need hard proof."

Celeste nodded, still gripping the paper. "And we need to figure out who's trying to scare us off."

Adrian's jaw tightened. "Vaughn's the obvious suspect."

Celeste agreed, but something still nagged at her. The person who had been threatening them wasn't just trying to scare them—they were watching them. That meant they were close. Someone who had access to the theatre, to the records, to them.

Someone who knew what they were doing.

As they stepped out of the car, Celeste shivered. It wasn't just the cold February air. Something about tonight felt off.

She glanced around the dimly lit garage, the shadows stretching long against the concrete walls.

"Adrian," she said quietly.

He followed her gaze. "You feel that?"

She nodded.

They weren't alone.

The realization sent a prickle of unease down Celeste's spine. The garage was mostly empty this time of night, save for a handful of parked cars. Silence stretched around them, too thick, too expectant.

Adrian shifted subtly, angling his body toward her, his posture tense. "Get inside. Now."

Celeste didn't argue. They moved quickly toward the elevator, Adrian pressing the button with more force than necessary.

Nothing happened.

Celeste's stomach twisted.

"The power's out," she murmured.

Adrian cursed under his breath. "That's not a coincidence."

A noise echoed from behind them. A soft scrape, like a shoe against concrete.

Celeste's pulse pounded.

Someone was here. Watching. Waiting.

Adrian reached for the phone in his pocket, but before he could dial, the fluorescent lights above them flickered—then died completely.

Darkness swallowed the garage.

Celeste's breath hitched. "We need to move."

Adrian grabbed her wrist. "Stay close."

They turned toward the stairwell. A quick escape—if they could reach it.

Then—

A low voice, from somewhere in the dark.

"You don't know what you're playing with."

Celeste froze.

The same voice that had called her.

Adrian's grip on her tightened. "Who are you?"

Silence.

Then footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

Celeste's heart pounded. The sound was coming from their left—but the shadows made it impossible to see.

She swallowed hard. "We're not stopping." Her voice was steady, despite the fear clawing at her chest. "If you're trying to scare us, it won't work."

The footsteps paused.

Then—low, almost amused—

"Is that so?"

The air seemed to thicken. Celeste's fingers clenched around Adrian's arm.

Then the footsteps ran.

Fast. Toward them.

Adrian moved, shoving Celeste toward the stairwell as he turned to face the threat.

A figure lunged from the shadows.

Adrian blocked the first swing, barely dodging a second blow as the man—dressed in dark clothes, his face masked—came at him with terrifying speed.

Celeste scrambled backwards, heart racing.

"Go!" Adrian barked.

But she couldn't leave him.

Instead, she grabbed the closest weapon she could find—a rusted metal pipe near an old storage unit—and swung it as hard as she could.

The pipe connected with the attacker's side. He grunted in pain, stumbling.

It was enough.

Adrian surged forward, landing a solid punch to the man's jaw. The attacker staggered, then bolted toward the exit.

Adrian started after him, but Celeste grabbed his arm. "No! We need to get out of here—now."

Adrian hesitated—then cursed under his breath and nodded.

They ran.

Celeste's hands were still shaking when they locked themselves inside Adrian's office.

The lights flickered overhead—normal here, no sign of a power outage.

Adrian grabbed his desk phone and dialled security, his voice sharp.

"There was an intruder in the garage," he said. "Check the cameras. Now."

Celeste paced, trying to calm her racing heart.

Who was that?

Who had sent them?

And why were they willing to attack Adrian to shut them up?

A few minutes later, the security guard called back.

Adrian put the call on speaker. "What did you find?"

A pause. Then—

"The footage is gone."

Celeste went still.

Adrian's jaw clenched. "What?"

"The last two hours were wiped," the guard said. "It's like they were never recorded."

Celeste exchanged a tense glance with Adrian.

Whoever had come after them wasn't alone. They had resources. Access.

And they had just made it very clear that they weren't afraid to get violent.

The next morning, Celeste sat in her apartment, still trying to process everything.

Margaret's warning echoed in her head.

You're fighting a battle you can't win.

She closed her eyes.

She wasn't sure if Margaret had been right.

But she did know one thing.

If someone was willing to attack them over this, it meant they were close to uncovering something—something dangerous.

Her phone buzzed.

A message.

No number.

Just two words.

Last warning.

Celeste's grip tightened around the phone.

She exhaled.

Then she deleted the message.

And she picked up her notes.

She wasn't stopping.

No matter what it took.