2025-06-30 22:35:34
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The Locked Room
Chapter 29 Jason pov 7:12 AM – Safehouse Inner Room I stared at the mirror for too long. The reflection stared back with a smile I wasn’t wearing—same eyes, same jaw, same dark circles from sleepless nights. But something behind that glass wasn’t me. It looked… aware. Emily stood near the shattered monitor, hugging herself. Ayla, meanwhile, scanned the bloodied writing above the screen. “One of us isn’t who we think we are,” she read aloud. “Cute,” I muttered. “He’s playing games now.” Ayla turned toward me, her voice low. “Jason, he’s always been playing games. That’s what Echo is. Not a killer—he’s a conductor. And we’re his instruments.” 7:30 AM – Makeshift War Table We spread out the timeline again. Spokane. The high school fire. The anniversary killings. The tapes. The signatures. Three witnesses.
The Third witness
Chapter 28 Jason Pov 4:01 AM – The Warehouse, Undisclosed Coordinates The air stank of rotting paper and something worse—like burnt copper and old blood. I held my breath as Ayla slammed her flashlight across the rusted lockbox in the corner of the darkened warehouse. The chain fell with a metallic thud, echoing off the broken beams above us. Rain tapped at the rusted roof like impatient fingers. “Ready?” she asked. I didn’t answer. My hand was already on the lid. We opened it together. Inside, laid neatly like it had been preserved, was a single cassette tape. No markings. No label. Just one word scratched into the plastic in jagged, desperate strokes: Witness. Ayla stared at it. “You sure you want to do this here?” “I need to know what’s on it before someone else dies.” She looked like s
Archive that shouldn't exist
Chapter 27 Jason pov 8:02 a.m. – Motel 6, Room 209 I hadn’t touched the recorder since last night. Not since I heard my own voice—the one I didn’t remember recording—telling me I couldn’t kill it. That I was becoming it. That it already knew how this would end. That recorder sat on the edge of the sink now. Still, quiet. But it felt alive. Like a venomous thing curled and watching. I hadn't slept. None of us had. Emily was lying stiff on the motel bed, eyes half open, mouthing something silently. Ayla had taken the first shower and emerged pale, silent, her weapon never more than arm’s reach. “I think I found something,” Ayla said, finally breaking the tension. “What kind of something?” I asked. “A record that doesn’t exist in any federal archive, but somehow shows up on a private back-channel connected to your father’s
Black glass
CHAPTER 26 Jason POV They covered every mirror in the house by morning. Black sheets, duct tape, even cardboard on the tiny shaving glass in the medicine cabinet. But I still felt them. Watching. Breathing. I hadn’t slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw me again—but not me. That version of me standing in my childhood hallway, grinning with dried blood across his collar like it was some kind of badge. Worse? I didn’t know if it was a hallucination… or a memory trying to claw its way back. 08:11 a.m. – Safehouse War Room Ayla slammed her laptop shut. “That’s six bodies now. Six signatures. All marked within forty-eight hours.” Emily didn’t flinch. She just stared at the blank TV screen like it might decide to talk. I paced. “None of them had mirrors near the
The name under the static
Chapter 23 Jason pov 1:42 a.m. – Safehouse Surveillance Bay, Riyadh The static had a rhythm. Not the usual fuzzy buzz of a damaged feed, but pulses. Slow. Methodical. Like Morse code without meaning. Or maybe it had meaning—we just didn’t speak the language. I leaned closer to the screen, adjusting the dial until the distortion flared into clarity. For one heartbeat, I could’ve sworn I saw her again. Not Emily. Her. The woman from the signature dream. The one with eyes like scorched glass. But it was gone before I could pause. Emily stood in the doorway, barefoot, shivering slightly. She hadn’t knocked. “Can’t sleep either?” I asked. “No.” “You’re humming again.” She stopped, blinking. “I didn’t notice.” “You never do.” She didn’t
Where Memory lies
CHAPTER 25 Jason Pov I shouldn’t have come back here. The Spokane house hadn’t aged—it had withered. The paint peeled like burned skin, the windows wore the grime of ten forgotten winters, and the grass had long given up trying to be anything but dirt. I parked two blocks away, like that would make a difference. Like the past wouldn’t recognize me. The front door opened easier than I expected. The lock was broken, or maybe the house was just done resisting. Inside, the silence wasn’t silence. It listened. I stood in the foyer where I’d first found them. My parents. The memory came like water breaking a dam—sharp, chaotic, too fast to breathe in. The carpet had been soaked back then. I remembered the squish of blood under my sneakers. The cold metal of my dad’s watch still ticking on his wrist. The signature drawn beside their bodies—
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