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 14: The Confrontation

The air in the cabin felt charged, heavy with tension as Ian Wren stood face-to-face with Mayor Henry Blackwell. The faint glow of the spirals etched into the stone pedestal cast eerie shadows across the room, their light pulsing faintly, almost in rhythm with Ian's own pounding heartbeat.

Blackwell stood in the doorway, his hood pulled back to reveal his sharp, composed face. There was no fear in his eyes—only a cold certainty that sent a chill racing down Ian's spine.

"I see you've found it," Blackwell said calmly, his gaze flicking to the black box tucked under Ian's arm. "You have no idea what you're holding, Detective. That's not just a relic. It's a responsibility."

Ian squared his shoulders, his grip tightening on the box. "A responsibility? Is that what you call murder, intimidation, and control? Eleanor knew what this was, and she knew the price of your so-called hour. But you're not going to bury the truth."

Blackwell stepped into the room, his movements deliberate. Evelyn Cross raised her gun, her stance steady as she aimed directly at him. "Not another step," she warned.

Blackwell stopped, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "You think you can stop this with guns? The hour doesn't end because you will it to. It's older than any of us. Older than this town. You've already set things in motion that can't be undone."

Ian's flashlight flicked to the spiral symbols on the walls, their light growing brighter as Blackwell spoke. The air seemed to hum with energy, an oppressive force that pressed down on Ian's chest. "What are you talking about?" Ian demanded.

Blackwell's smile widened. "You've taken the box, Detective. That means you're part of this now. You think you're outside of it, but the hour pulls all who come near. Eleanor understood that too late. Let's hope you're smarter than she was."

Ian's jaw tightened as he stepped forward, blocking Blackwell's path to the pedestal. "This ends tonight. The ledger, the society, the rituals—it all ends now."

Blackwell's expression darkened, his voice dropping to a cold, menacing tone. "The hour doesn't end, Wren. Not for you. Not for her." His eyes flicked to Clara, who had been standing frozen by the doorway, her face pale and stricken with fear.

Clara took a step back, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. "He's lying," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "He's just trying to scare us."

Evelyn kept her gun trained on Blackwell, her finger hovering over the trigger. "Do we take him in, Ian? Or do we walk out of here now and deal with him later?"

Ian's mind raced, weighing their options. Blackwell was dangerous, but something about the box, the symbols, and the growing hum of energy in the room told him they were running out of time. "We leave," Ian said firmly. "Now."

He motioned for Clara and Evelyn to follow as he moved toward the doorway, the box clutched tightly in his hands. But Blackwell's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You can't run from this," Blackwell said, his tone unnervingly calm. "The hour will claim what it's owed. And when it does, you'll wish you'd never interfered."

Ian turned to face him one last time, his expression resolute. "We'll see about that."

And with that, they stepped out into the night, leaving the glowing spirals and Blackwell's ominous words behind. But as they made their way back through the woods, Ian couldn't shake the feeling that the mayor was right. The weight of the box seemed heavier now, almost as if it pulsed with its own heartbeat. Whatever secrets it held, Ian knew one thing: the Crimson Hour Society wouldn't let them walk away unchallenged.