A silhouette shifted near the edge of the collapsing cannery roof.
"I found it, Elias," Marcus breathed, laughing a breathless, manic laugh. "What we were looking for back at the agency. The reason Silas disappeared. It wasn't an accident. They are clearing the board."
"Who is clearing the board, Marcus? Sit down, you're bleeding." Aden Aden Aden
Marcus stepped forward into a thin shaft of moonlight. He looked terrible. His coat was torn, a dark smear of what could only be blood staining his left side, and his eyes were wild with a brand of fear Elias had never seen in him. He was clutching a small, metallic briefcase to his chest like a shield.
He stepped out of the truck, the air thick with the smell of salt, rotting wood, and wet earth. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket but did not turn it on. He moved by muscle memory toward the old pier. A silhouette shifted near the edge of the
"You came alone?" The voice was Marcus's, but it was strained, thin. "Of course. What happened?"
Twenty minutes later, Elias was pushing his rusted truck through the dense coastal fog. The headlights barely punched through the grey soup, reflecting off the skeletal pine trees that lined the cliffside road. His mind raced back to the academy, to the four of them—Elias, Marcus, Silas, and Clara. They had promised to look out for each other, no matter where life scattered them. Marcus was the one who came up with the emergency protocol. The reason Silas disappeared
The call came at three in the morning, vibrating hard enough against the wooden nightstand to wake the heavy sleeper beside him. Elias didn’t fumble. His hand clamped over the phone instantly, sliding the green icon before the second ring could cut through the silence of the dark bedroom. He didn't say hello. He waited.