Chapter Twenty-Two: Shadows in the Fog
The town was quiet.
Too quiet.
Elena kept to the narrow alleyways, her hood pulled low over her face. The storm had left the streets damp and fog-laced, curling mist over the cobblestones.
She shouldn't have come back.
She knew that.
But she needed answers.
The shopkeeper was the only person who had given her a real warning. If anyone knew what R. V. Holloway meant, it was him.
She reached the shop's entrance and hesitated. The old wooden sign creaked overhead. The windows were dark, the store closed.
No choice now.
She knocked once.
Nothing.
She knocked again, harder.
Still nothing.
Her pulse quickened. Was he avoiding her? Or—
A faint shuffling sound came from inside. Then, a quiet voice.
"Go away."
Elena's breath hitched.
"Please," she whispered. "I need to talk to you."
Silence.
Then, the door cracked open, just a sliver. A single, wary eye peered out.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I found something," she said quickly, pushing before he could shut her out. "A box. With a name. R. V. Holloway."
The shopkeeper froze.
His grip on the door tightened.
Elena swallowed. "Tell me who they were."
He inhaled slowly, eyes darting behind her as if checking for something.
Or someone.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "You don't want to know."
Meanwhile…
Leon stood in the shadows of a rooftop, looking down at the town below.
His senses stretched outward, searching. She was here.
Somewhere.
His lips pressed into a thin line. He should have found her by now.
And yet—something inside him hesitated.
She was reckless, stubborn. She should have fled. But she hadn't. Instead, she'd doubled back.
That meant she was looking for something.
Or… someone.
His gaze flicked toward the shop on the corner.
The one place in town filled with secrets.
A muscle in his jaw tightened.
He stepped off the ledge.
Time to stop playing games.