“Wolf, I’m checking the high ground,” I say into the comm.
There’s a beat of silence before he answers.
“Don’t go alone.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
The headlights cut through the dark road as I climb higher into the hills.
I tell myself I just want confirmation.
A quick sweep.
In and out.
But deep down I know the truth.
I’m hunting.
The quarry road is empty.
No headlights.
No movement.
Just wind whispering through the scrub brush and the distant creak of old mining equipment rusting in the dark.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
Again.
I ignore it.
“Saint, report,” Wolf says in my ear.
“I’m in the hills,” I answer, my voice steady. “Five minutes out.”
“From what?”
I glance toward the dark outline of the quarry ahead.
“From answers.”
I kill the engine near the edge of the road and step out into the cold night.
The wind carries dust across the gravel.
The quarry stretches below me like a massive wound carved into the earth.
Deep.
Dark.
Silent.
Too silent.
