The rain had not stopped for three days. Ravenwood, usually cloaked in its gentle morning fog, now drowned under an endless storm. Water coursed along the gutters like veins of silver, and thunder rolled across the hills, low and menacing, like a warning from the heavens.
Detective Alex Monroe stood in his apartment, staring at the window where the storm distorted the world outside. His shirt clung damp against his back—he hadn't slept, hadn't eaten much. The last case notes lay scattered across his table, ink smudged by restless hands.
That's when he noticed it.
A new envelope. Black.
It hadn't been there minutes ago. He was sure. His skin prickled.
He picked it up. Unlike the elegant cream letters of before, this one reeked of finality. The paper was thick, rougher, like old parchment. Written in crisp silver ink, a single message:
"Come to the Kane Steel Mill by midnight. Bring no one. The truth awaits."
Alex let the note fall to the table. His chest was heavy. His instincts screamed trap, but his mind whispered something worse: this was the end of the game.
The Decision
By late evening, Alex was pacing his apartment when the first knock came.
Lila Carter, soaked from the rain, stood at his door, eyes sharp despite the fatigue.
"You got another one, didn't you?" she asked without preamble.
Alex didn't answer. He didn't need to—the look on his face was enough.
"You're not going alone."
"Lila—"
"Don't even start," she cut him off. "I've risked as much as you, Alex. I've chased these letters, put my name on the line. If this ends tonight, I'll be there."
Before he could argue further, another voice came from behind her.
"Count me in too."
It was Clara Monroe, Alex's younger sister. Her expression was unreadable—anger and grief twisted into determination.
"Dad's sins dragged us here. I won't sit at home while you face it alone."
"Clara…" Alex started, but his throat closed. He had spent years keeping her out of the darkness, away from their father's ghost. But now, the fire in her eyes was unmovable.
And then, the fourth arrived.
Marcus Flynn, umbrella in one hand, smirk on his lips.
"You didn't think I'd miss the climax of the biggest story Ravenwood's ever had, did you?"
Alex's jaw clenched. "This isn't a circus, Marcus. People are going to die tonight."
Marcus's smile didn't fade. "Then I'd better bring my pen. History won't write itself."
The Absence
They all looked toward the door, waiting for a fifth.
Sam Hargrove.
But he never came. His phone went unanswered. His desk at the station was empty.
The silence between them was thick. Lila finally muttered, "Maybe he's already there."
Alex's stomach knotted. He didn't like the sound of that.
The Departure
At 11:30 p.m., their car cut through sheets of rain as they headed toward the old Kane Steel Mill. The road wound through the industrial district, deserted except for flickering streetlamps and the occasional growl of thunder.
Inside the car, no one spoke much. Clara gripped the door handle so tightly her knuckles whitened. Lila scribbled notes in her pocket journal, her hand trembling despite her composure. Marcus hummed a tune under his breath, irritatingly calm.
Alex drove, eyes fixed on the blurred headlights ahead, his heart pounding like a drum.
Each flash of lightning revealed the mill on the horizon—an iron skeleton against the storm, its broken smokestacks reaching into the clouds like rusted spears.
The game had been leading them here all along.
And tonight, it would end.