The soft hum of Zaire's laptop filled the room, the only sound breaking the tense silence. I leaned over the back of his chair, my pulse quickening with every click of the keyboard. A single lamp illuminated the small space in Zaire's room, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls.
Sebastian paced by the window, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his gaze darting toward the darkened street outside. His unease was contagious.
"This guy has to be connected somehow," Zaire muttered, his fingers moving furiously. "Whoever wrote that article, they know way more than they're letting on. And this name—ZM—it's too suspicious to be a coincidence."
"Could it be a pseudonym?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Zaire paused, frowning at the screen. "Maybe. Or initials. Either way, I've cross-referenced the article's metadata with everything I can access."
"And?" Sebastian stopped pacing and stepped closer, his expression sharp.
Zaire sighed, pushing back from the desk. "I found a number."
"What?" My breath hitched.
"A phone number. No name, no registration—completely untraceable." He glanced at me, his jaw tightening. "It's like whoever owns this number doesn't want to be found. But it's tied to the account that posted the article."
Sebastian folded his arms, his brows knitting together. "So, what now? We can't exactly call and ask if they're part of a high-society drug cult."
Zaire smirked grimly. "No, but it's a lead. For now, it's all we've got."
I bit my lip, my mind racing. The fact that someone had gone to such lengths to hide their identity only made me more certain we were on the right track. This wasn't just a coincidence—ZM knew something. Maybe everything.
"But we're at a dead end with the number," Zaire continued. "Unless we find another way to connect the dots, we're stuck."
"What about the Serpent's Trail?" Sebastian asked, leaning against the desk. "We know that's our next lead. If this ZM guy is part of the group, maybe we'll find something there."
Zaire hesitated, glancing at me. "It's risky. The Serpent's Trail isn't just some abandoned place. It's private property—practically a fortress. You don't just walk in unnoticed."
I swallowed hard. The thought of sneaking into a place that dangerous made my stomach churn, but what choice did we have?
"If we wait, we lose time," I said finally. "And whoever's behind this gains another step ahead of us."
Sebastian nodded, his expression resolute. "Then we go. Tonight."
Zaire hesitated, but the determination in his eyes matched Sebastian's. He shut his laptop with a quiet click and stood. "Fine. But we need a plan."
The clock on Zaire's wall ticked relentlessly as we sat huddled together, whispering and mapping out our next move. By the time midnight rolled around, the house had fallen silent. Even the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen seemed muted, as if the entire world was holding its breath.
We slipped out one by one, each of us careful not to make a sound. Zaire was the last to leave, double-checking that his parents were fast asleep before locking the door behind him.
Sebastian's car was parked a block away, hidden in the shadows of an overgrown tree. The cool night air bit at my skin as I climbed into the backseat, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. Zaire slid into the passenger seat while Sebastian took the wheel, his jaw clenched with focus.
The drive was tense. None of us spoke much, the weight of what we were about to do pressing down on us like a heavy fog. The streets were eerily empty, the occasional flicker of a streetlamp casting long, distorted shadows across the road.
"Are you sure we're ready for this?" Zaire asked finally, breaking the silence.
"No," I admitted. "But we don't have a choice."
The entrance to the Serpent's Trail loomed ahead, hidden behind a dense wall of trees and thick, gnarled vines. The road leading up to it was little more than a dirt path, barely wide enough for the car.
Sebastian killed the engine, plunging us into complete darkness. The only sound was the distant rustle of leaves in the wind and the faint chirping of crickets.
"This is it," he said, his voice low.
We climbed out of the car, the gravel crunching softly beneath our feet. The air was thick with tension, every shadow seeming to move and twist in the corner of my eye.
"Over here," Zaire whispered, leading the way toward a small gap in the fence that surrounded the property. He had found it during his research—a forgotten corner where the security was weakest.
We slipped through one by one, the metal scraping against my jacket as I squeezed through. On the other side, the world felt different. Darker. Colder.
The Serpent's Trail wasn't what I had expected. The rumors had painted it as some grand, mysterious mansion, but in reality, it was a sprawling network of old warehouses and crumbling buildings, half-hidden by overgrown foliage.
"It's like a ghost town," I murmured.
Sebastian glanced around, his eyes scanning the shadows. "Stay close. We don't know who—or what—might be out here."
We moved cautiously, our footsteps muffled against the soft dirt. The buildings towered over us, their windows shattered, their walls covered in graffiti. But there was something else—symbols etched into the brick, the same snake-circle we had seen in Andrew's diary.
"This is it," Zaire said quietly, pointing to one of the symbols.
The air inside the Serpent's Trail was thick and stifling, a mixture of mildew, rust, and something faintly metallic. Shadows danced along the crumbling walls, and every creak of the ancient building set my nerves on edge. The only sound was the quiet shuffle of our footsteps as we moved cautiously down the hall.
"Keep an eye out," Zaire whispered, his voice barely audible. He carried a flashlight, its weak beam barely piercing the darkness.
Sebastian trailed behind, his hand brushing against the wall as if he were trying to steady himself. "This place feels like it's alive," he muttered.
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. The rumours about this place being connected to the elites suddenly didn't seem so far-fetched. The snake-circle symbols carved into the walls only heightened the eerie atmosphere.
As we reached what seemed like an old storage room, Zaire stopped abruptly, holding up a hand. "Do you hear that?"
I froze, straining to listen. At first, there was nothing—just the distant groan of the building settling. Then I heard it: faint footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Someone was here.
Sebastian mouthed the word, Run.
We turned, moving as quickly and quietly as we could back the way we came. The footsteps grew louder, and closer, accompanied by the faint rustle of fabric.
My pulse raced as we darted into a side hallway, pressing ourselves against the wall. I held my breath, my hand gripping Zaire's sleeve as we waited.
A man appeared in the dim light, his figure tall and lean, his face obscured by a hood. He moved with purpose, his head turning sharply as if searching for something.
"Who is that?" I whispered.
"No idea," Zaire said, his voice tense.
The man stopped near a broken cabinet, rummaging through the debris with frantic energy.
Sebastian leaned closer, his voice barely audible. "We need to follow him. He's looking for something."
Zaire nodded, but before we could move, the man suddenly turned, his gaze snapping toward the hallway we were hiding in.
"Go!" Sebastian hissed.
We bolted, our footsteps echoing through the narrow corridors. The man shouted something—a harsh, guttural curse—and gave chase.
The chase was chaotic. The corridors twisted and turned, the dim light making it hard to see where we were going. The man was fast, his footsteps pounding behind us like a drumbeat.
"Split up!" Zaire yelled, veering down a side hallway.
Sebastian grabbed my arm, pulling me down another corridor. My lungs burned as we ran, the air thick and suffocating.
"Over there!" I pointed to an open doorway ahead. We darted inside, pressing ourselves against the wall.
The man ran past, his footsteps fading briefly before stopping.
"He's doubling back," Sebastian whispered, his voice tight.
Before we could move, Zaire appeared from the other side, blocking the man's path. "Gotcha!" he said, lunging at him.
The man cursed, shoving Zaire back and taking off down another hallway.
"After him!" I yelled.
We sprinted after him, the adrenaline drowning out my fear. The man leapt over debris, his movements quick and agile, but he was slowing down.
Sebastian was the first to catch up, grabbing the man's arm and yanking him backwards. The man stumbled, swinging wildly, but Sebastian dodged his blow and pinned him against the wall.
"Don't move!" Sebastian growled, his grip iron-tight.
The man struggled, but Zaire was there in an instant, helping to hold him down.
"Who are you?" I demanded, stepping forward. "What are you doing here?"
The man glared at me, his chest heaving. "Let me go," he spat.
"Not until you talk," Sebastian said, his voice low and dangerous.
The man hesitated, his gaze darting between us. Finally, he sagged in defeat.
"My name's Gordon," he muttered. "I... I'm just a server. I work for the parties."
"Damien sent us," Zaire lied smoothly. "We're friends of his. If you don't talk, we'll tell the elites you're holding back."
At the mention of Damien, Gordon's eyes widened. He looked around nervously before speaking. "You shouldn't be here," he said. "This place—it's dangerous."
"We can handle it," Sebastian said coldly. "Now start talking."
Gordon hesitated, then sighed. "This place belongs to the Oakmans. They're one of the elite families. The last party was held here, but after what happened to Andrew and Hannah..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"They were killed," Gordon said bluntly. "The elites don't know who did it, but they suspect it was one of their own. That's why security's tighter now. Only trusted people get invites."
Sebastian's grip tightened. "And the pendant?"
Gordon's gaze flicked to me. "The color. Let me see it."
I pulled the pendant from my pocket, holding it out for him to see.
His expression darkened. "It used to be gold," he said. "But after a server—Lexie—was murdered about twelve years ago, they changed it. Now it's red. A warning, I guess. To remind us what happens when someone steps out of line."
My stomach churned. "What about the next party? Where is it?"
Gordon hesitated again, but when Sebastian glared at him, he relented. "It's at the Blackthorn Estate," he said. "Two nights from now. Midnight. But remember—every party is a masquerade. No one gets in without an invitation and a mask."
"What happens at these parties?" Zaire asked.
Gordon shook his head. "You don't want to know. Just... be careful. The Oakmans don't take kindly to trespassers."
We let Gordon go, obviously the boys threatened him, watching as he disappeared into the night.
As we walked back to Sebastian's car, the weight of what we had learned pressed down on me. The Oakmans. The parties. The murders. It was all connected, and somehow, the pendant in my pocket was the key.
"We're running out of time," I said quietly.
Sebastian nodded. "Then we'd better be ready."