Page 9 of When 're Silent

“About that day—the day you said—”she began, her pulse quickening as she finally broached the subject that hadhaunted their every interaction since.

Finn’s grip on the steering wheeltightened imperceptibly, his jaw clenching for a moment before he exhaledslowly. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, Amelia,” he said, his voicesteady but threaded with something she couldn’t quite name.

“Uncomfortable isn’t the word I’duse,” Amelia responded, turning to face him fully. Her heart felt like it wasbeing pulled taut, the words she needed to say piling up behind her lips. “It’sthe silence that followed. That’s what’s uncomfortable.”

He glanced at her, his blue eyesreflecting a storm of emotions that seemed to clash with his controlleddemeanor. It was there, in the briefest flicker of vulnerability, that she sawthe weight he carried—the unresolved past that shadowed his present. He hadbeen through so much in the last year: the court case, suspension from the FBI,losing his fiance, relocating to a new country, facing a serial killer whoalways seemed to be one step ahead; the list went on. Amelia wondered ifbringing up the fact that Finn had told her he loved her might get lost in thewhirlpool of all those pressures.

“Sometimes, silence says more thanwe intend,” Finn muttered, almost to himself. The mansion was drawing closernow, the details of its ornate architecture becoming clearer. But for Amelia,the greater clarity lay in the admission hanging unspoken in the air, and therealization that the barriers between them were not just of Finn’s making.

Amelia stopped herself from sayingmore for a moment, though she wanted to resolved things one way or the other.She had to think about the best way to approach things with him.

As they parked by the mansion, aheavy stillness settled upon them. They stepped out into the biting Januaryair, the mansion standing silent on the precipice of revelation, as silent asthe questions that remained unanswered between them.

Amelia’s gaze followed the sweep ofFinn’s arm as he turned off the ignition, the car’s engine falling silent asthough it too held its breath against the oncoming revelation. The mansionloomed ahead, its grim facade a testament to histories untold and secrets wellkept. The January sky cast a dull gray pallor over the landscape, and the seachurned restlessly in the distance, its waves a steady murmur against the rockycoast.

“Back when Max took Demi,” Finnbegan, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the cold air aroundthem, “I felt like my world had tilted on its axis.” He paused, his handsresting on the steering wheel as if they might still steer him clear of thetruth he was about to reveal. “The moment I got the call, every feeling I hadfor you became a betrayal. A betrayal of her. I felt terrible guilt forthinking about you while Demi was in danger.”

Amelia watched him closely, herkeen eyes searching his face for the shadows of guilt that often played uponhis features. It was a rare thing to see Finn Wright unguarded, his emotionsbleeding into the space between them.

“Have you ever cut a deal with thepowers above? God, maybe... It was as if by admitting I cared for you, I’dsomehow put Demi directly in harm’s way,” he continued, his voice tinged withembarrassment. “As though my feelings could twist fate. It’s superstitious, Iknow... foolish even. But I felt like if I wished for you, somehow she wouldget hurt by Vilne.”

There it was, the revelation shehadn’t expected—a vulnerability laid bare beneath the steely resolve of the manshe had come to know not just as a partner but as something more. She felt theweight of his confession settle in her chest, a strange mix of relief andsadness.

“Superstition has a way of makingus believe we have control in situations where we have none,” Amelia saidsoftly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his. She wanted to offercomfort, to bridge the gap that had formed between them, filled with unsaidwords and unacknowledged feelings.

She shifted her gaze to the mansionas they stepped out of the vehicle, the gravel crunching beneath their feet.Its presence was imposing, each window appearing as an eye holding vigil overThornheart. As they moved towards the entrance, Amelia’s thoughts drifted toFinn, seeing him not just as her stoic partner but as a man wrestling with hisown demons.

"Maybe we should talk about itlater," Amelia suggested, her voice carrying through the chill air. Yet,even as she spoke, she recognized her own reticence, the lingering grief thatclung to her like a second skin since her fiance's death.

Finn nodded, his expressionunreadable, but made no move to speak further on the matter. It was as if thehouse itself demanded their attention, the murder within its walls a siren callthey couldn’t ignore.

With a final look at the forebodingstructure before them, they stepped towards the building, leaving theirpersonal crossroads untraveled for the time being.

CHAPTER FIVE

The grandeur of Thornheart Manorloomed ominously as the slate January sky above it whispered the threat of astorm. Finn Wright’s hand gripped the steering wheel, navigating the sleek carover the gravel driveway that crunched like bone fragments beneath the tires.

Finn and Amelia cautiously madetheir way up the winding path that led to Thornheart Manor. The imposingVictorian mansion stood tall against the darkening sky, its weathered stonefacade exuding an air of mystery and intrigue. The scent of damp earth anddecaying leaves hung heavy in the air, adding to the eerie atmosphere thatsurrounded the grand estate.

As they stepped onto the creakingwooden porch, Finn couldn’t help but notice the intricate details carved intoevery inch of the ornate double doors. The once vibrant paint had faded overtime, leaving behind a ghostly reminder of its former glory. He reached out tograsp the tarnished brass doorknob, feeling a chill run down his spine as heturned it.

The moment they crossed thethreshold, Finn felt an unsettling presence wash over him. The grand foyerstretched out before them, with a sweeping staircase leading up to a galleryadorned with portraits of long-dead ancestors. Dust particles danced in the dimlight that filtered through stained glass windows, casting eerie shadows on thedelicate Persian rug beneath their feet.

Amelia’s voice broke through Finn’sreverie as she whispered, her words barely audible in the oppressive silence ofThornheart Manor. “This place gives me chills,” she admitted, her eyes scanningtheir surroundings with what looked like a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

Finn nodded silently in agreement,his gaze drawn to a massive stone fireplace that dominated one wall of thelobby, its flames dancing high yet contained.

Constable Jones, a young and eagerofficer known to them, approached Finn and Amelia with a sense of urgency. Hisuniform was crisp, his badge gleaming under the dim light of Thornheart Manor.“Detectives Wright and Winters,” he greeted them with a nod, his voice hushedas if afraid to disturb the heavy silence that hung in the air. “I’ve beenassigned to assist you in navigating the crime scene.”

Finn acknowledged Constable Joneswith a curt nod, appreciating the officer’s dedication despite his evidentnerves. “Lead the way, my man,” he instructed, his tone as jovial as possiblegiven the circumstances.

The constable hesitated for amoment before gesturing towards a set of ornate double doors at the end of thegrand foyer. “This way,” he said softly, his voice barely audible above thecrackling fire.

As they followed Constable Jonesthrough the doors, Finn couldn’t help but notice how their surroundings shiftedfrom opulence to decay. The once polished wooden floors gave way to worncarpeting that seemed to absorb their footsteps, muffling any sound they made.The walls were adorned with faded tapestries depicting scenes from forgotteneras, their colors muted by time.

This place is a facade, he thought.

They arrived at a closed doorguarded by two uniformed officers who nodded respectfully at Finn and Amelia asthey approached an opened the door.

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