crucifyheaven

Detective Ian Wren thought he had escaped the ghosts of his past, but the murder of Eleanor Montgomery pulls him into a web of deceit that threatens to unravel Hollow’s Edge. Eleanor was more than a philanthropist—she was the keystone of the town’s power dynamics. Her death exposes dark secrets tied to the elusive Crimson Hour Society, a shadowy group with ties to corruption and betrayal.

As Ian investigates, he uncovers layers of lies, each piece revealing deeper connections between Hollow’s Edge’s elite and Eleanor’s tragic demise. But the closer Ian gets to the truth, the more dangerous the game becomes. With each passing hour, Ian faces threats, red herrings, and the ghosts of his unsolved case—forcing him to confront his own failure and unravel the darkness hiding in plain sight.

In a town where trust is fleeting and redemption comes at a price, Ian must uncover the truth before the Crimson Hour strikes again.

The Crimson Hour

Chapter 11: The Escape

The clearing erupted into chaos the moment Ian Wren and Sheriff Evelyn Cross stepped forward. The hooded figures scattered like startled crows, their movements swift and erratic. The chanting ceased, replaced by a cacophony of shouts and the frantic rustling of leaves. Ian's flashlight darted across the clearing as he surged forward, his eyes locked on the altar.

The leather-bound notebook was still there, perched precariously atop the blood-slicked stone. Ian's breath came fast and shallow as he lunged toward it, his fingers brushing against the worn cover. But before he could grab it, a strong hand clamped down on his wrist.

The mayor's grip was vice-like, his face twisted into a mask of barely restrained fury. "You think you can stop this?" he snarled, his voice low but charged with menace. "You don't even know what you're meddling with, Detective."

Ian twisted free, his other hand darting toward the notebook. "I know enough," he shot back, clutching the ledger as he stepped away from the altar. "Eleanor died for this, and I'm not letting it burn."

Blackwell's eyes darkened, and for a moment, Ian thought he might attack. But the mayor simply straightened, his expression cold and calculating. "You're in over your head," he said. "You're chasing shadows in a game you can't win."

Before Ian could respond, a scream pierced the air—a sound that sent a chill racing down his spine. He turned sharply, his flashlight cutting through the darkness to reveal Clara Montgomery, her back pressed against a tree as two hooded figures advanced on her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with terror.

"Evelyn!" Ian shouted, motioning toward Clara.

The sheriff didn't hesitate, drawing her sidearm and taking aim at the attackers. "Step back!" she barked, her voice carrying over the chaos. The figures froze for a moment before retreating into the shadows, their movements silent and unnervingly fluid.

Ian rushed to Clara's side, his heart pounding as he crouched beside her. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice urgent.

Clara shook her head, but her trembling hands betrayed her fear. "They'll kill me," she whispered. "They'll kill all of us."

"You're not alone," Ian said firmly, helping her to her feet. "But I need you to trust me. Whatever you know about the society, whatever secrets you've been keeping, you need to tell me. Now."

Clara hesitated, her gaze flicking to the shadows where the hooded figures had disappeared. "It's not just about power," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "It's… older than that. It's something dark, something they believe gives them control. My mother tried to stop it, but—"

Her words were cut off by a sudden rustling sound behind them. Ian turned sharply, his flashlight sweeping the clearing just in time to catch a glimpse of Blackwell retreating into the woods, his silhouette swallowed by the darkness.

"Evelyn, we need to move!" Ian called out, clutching the notebook tightly. "We can't let them regroup."

Evelyn nodded, her gun still drawn as she stepped closer to Ian and Clara. "Let's get out of here before we end up like Eleanor."

As they made their way back through the woods, the chanting began again—fainter now, but still present, as if the shadows themselves were alive with the sound. Ian didn't look back. The ledger in his hands felt like both a victory and a curse, a piece of the puzzle that brought him closer to the truth but also deeper into danger.

By the time they reached the safety of the Montgomery estate, Ian's mind was racing. The Crimson Hour Society was more than a secret—it was a force, one that thrived on fear and sacrifice. And now, with Clara's cryptic words echoing in his mind, he realized that Eleanor's death was just the beginning.