Page 48 of When 're Silent

The coastal line loomed ahead, avast expanse where land met the relentless churn of the sea. It was there,somewhere along that jagged edge, that Sarah might be held captive, her fateuncertain. Finn pressed his foot harder against the accelerator, willing thecar to devour the miles faster.

Closing in on Fortune’s Coast, abay on the coast of England known for its turbulent waters and rugged cliffs,the weather took a turn for the worse. Dark clouds gathered ominously overhead,casting a shadow over the landscape below. The wind howled like a banshee,whipping at their coats and sending salty spray from crashing waves into theair.

Amelia pointed towards a cluster ofpolice vehicles parked near the shoreline, their lights flashing in sync withthe raging storm. “There,” she said above the din of nature’s fury. “They’researching along this stretch.”

Finn scanned the area with acritical eye, his instincts honed by years in law enforcement. “Hastings won’tchoose just any spot for his grand finale,” he remarked, squinting through therain-splattered windshield. “He craves drama, spectacle. Somewhere withhistory.”

As they rounded a bend in the road,Finn’s gaze locked onto a distant silhouette rising above the tumultuous sea—alighthouse standing tall and proud amidst the tempest. His gut twisted withcertainty as he realized its significance.

“That’s it,” Finn declared firmly,his voice cutting through the roar of wind and waves. “Hastings will want astage for his final act. Not somewhere dreary like this beach on a January day.He’ll choose that lighthouse as his backdrop, it’s the only point of interesthere..”

Amelia followed his gaze to thelooming structure perched on a cliff overlooking Fortune’s Coast. Its beaconflickered defiantly against nature’s onslaught, beckoning ships home but nowserving as an unwitting accomplice to impending tragedy.

Without another word spoken betweenthem, Finn steered their car towards that solitary sentinel of light andshadow. As they drew closer to their destination, each passing momentheightened their awareness of what awaited them—the culmination of months ofpursuit and investigation condensed into this pivotal juncture.

The lighthouse loomed larger withevery heartbeat, its solid form etched against a sky painted by storm cloudsand fading daylight. Finn felt an electric charge in the air as theyapproached—part anticipation, part dread—as if destiny itself awaited them atthat windswept precipice.

The sky brooded over the heavingsea as Finn’s gaze locked onto the figure of Victor Hastings disappearing intothe lighthouse. The structure loomed, an ancient sentinel on the jaggedcoastline, its weathered stones clutching secrets in their gritty embrace.Finn’s hand remained steady on the wheel as Amelia, beside him, jotted downVictor’s inventory—a catalog of items betraying his intent to stay hidden.

“Looks like he’s settling in forthe long haul,” Amelia remarked, her voice a low hum against the thrumming windoutside.

“Or he’s making sure Sarah doesn’tstarve before we can make our move,” Finn replied, eyes never leaving thebeacon that now housed a viper within its walls.

They stood momentarily a discreetdistance away, gravel crunching under their feet like a whispered warning. Asthey continued on, the briny scent of the ocean mingled with the tang ofseaweed, wrapping around Finn like a shroud. His heart prowled in his chest, acaged animal awaiting release.

“I’ll call in backup, but we needto act. Ready?” Amelia asked.

How Finn wished either of them wasarmed. But they had to act, time was of the essence. Backup would have to wait.

“Since yesterday,” Finn muttered asthey moved forward, their shadows elongating across the rocky terrain like darkomens trailing behind them.

Finn felt the absence of his gunthrough his jacket as they approached the lighthouse, a beacon that no longerpromised guidance but threatened peril. He could hear the distant call ofgulls, their cries oddly mournful under the cloak of night. The sea clashedwith the rocks below, an endless battle that churned the water into froth.

“Feels like another world, thisplace, doesn’t it?” Amelia quipped, her attempt at levity not quite reachingher eyes.

“As long as we don’t end up stayinghere permanently,” Finn said, his gaze scanning their surroundings for any signof movement. Every sense was heightened, attuned to the danger that awaitedwithin the spiraling tower.

“You mean like ghosts of the coast?A least we’d have each other for company,” she whispered back, and despite thegravity of the situation, a smirk tugged at the corner of Finn’s mouth.

Their steps were muffled by thedamp grass, but each one echoed in Finn’s ears, the sound amplified by theanticipation and dread that twisted in his gut.

The lighthouse door groaned open atFinn’s touch, revealing a dimly lit spiral staircase that coiled upwards like aserpent ready to strike. He stepped inside, the musty smell of disuse and decayassaulting his nostrils. As they ascended, the staircase creaked beneath theirweight, the sounds a discordant symphony punctuating the tense silence.

“Watch your step,” Finn warnedsoftly, noticing the uneven wear on the steps. “Wouldn’t want to give him aheads-up with a grand entrance.”

“Right, because I’m known for mygrace and poise,” Amelia shot back, her voice barely above a whisper.

With each rise of the staircase,the air grew thicker, as if charged with the imminence of what was to come.Finn counted the steps, a silent rhythm that kept time with his racing pulse.At mid-level, a sliver of light beckoned from beneath a door, the only barrierbetween them and their quarry.

“Showtime,” Amelia breathed, andFinn nodded, his hand resting on the doorknob, waiting for the moment tostrike.

Finn’s hand lingered on the coolbrass of the doorknob, delaying the inevitable for a heartbeat. The thin lightseeping from the gap beneath the door painted a pale yellow line across thefloor, bisecting the darkness that clung to them. He glanced at Amelia, herfeatures drawn tight not with fear but with the gravity of their situation. Shenodded once, sharp and quick. It was time.

He twisted the knob, easing thedoor open with calculated slowness. The hinges protested with a faint squeal,the sound grating in the oppressive silence. They stepped into the room, eyesscanning, muscles tensed for any hint of movement.

“Looks like we’ve found the actor’sback stage,” Finn murmured, taking in the stark space.

“Minus the cast, though. Or perhapsit’s a small part?” Amelia quipped beside him, her gaze never leaving theshadows that clung to the walls.

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