Page 21 of When You're Gone

In that moment, a heavy certaintysettled in Finn's soul like a lead weight. The masked man had slipped throughhis grasp, leaving behind only cryptic words and unanswered questions. A surgeof frustration mingled with resignation as he realized the futility of thispursuit.

With a heavy sigh, Finn closed hiseyes briefly, centering himself amidst the fading light and encroachingshadows. The realization sank in—he had been outmaneuvered by a phantom in themaze's twisting corridors, left to decipher cryptic messages while his quarryslipped away into obscurity.

“Finn!” a welcome voice cried outsomewhere nearby.

"Amelia!" Finn's voiceechoed through the dense foliage, carrying a mix of relief and urgency. Hestrained to hear her response over the rustling leaves and his own raggedbreaths.

"I'm in the maze!" Finnshouted back, his words swallowed by the verdant walls that seemed to close inaround him. The distant sound of Amelia's voice calling out spurred him on, alifeline in the labyrinthine darkness.

"Follow my voice, Finn!"Her command cut through the oppressive silence like a beacon, guiding himtowards salvation. With renewed determination, he pressed forward, each stepbringing him closer to her reassuring presence.

As he followed the sound of hervoice, Finn's heart raced with a mix of anticipation and dread. The twistingpaths seemed to conspire against him, leading him deeper into the maze'senigmatic embrace. But Amelia's unwavering guidance kept him focused on escape.

Finally, after what felt like aneternity of winding corridors and dead ends, Finn burst into a small clearingwhere sunlight filtered weakly through the canopy above. There stood Amelia,her gaze fixed on him with unspoken relief as he emerged from the shadows, herface bloodied from the encounter with the masked man.

Amelia's eyes locked with Finn's,revealing a mix of relief and exhaustion in their depths. Without a word, heclosed the distance between them, wrapping her in a tight embrace. The rush ofadrenaline from their pursuit still pulsed through him.

"Are you alright?" Finn'svoice was gruff with worry.

"I don't think my nose isbroken, but an ice pack wouldn't hurt," Amelia replied calmly, herresilience a constant source of awe for Finn. "You can grab me one."

Releasing her from the hug, Finnmotioned towards their police car, his arm instinctively draping over hershoulders for support, both physical and emotional. The weight of what they hadjust witnessed lingered heavily between them.

"It's terrible to imagine thatthe gas-masked figure was the last sight Emily Stanton and Lucas Henshawbeheld," Amelia spoke softly, sorrow coloring her tone as she mourned thevictims' untimely ends.

As they approached the vehicle, anagging thought gnawed at Finn's mind. "I think there might be more thanone perpetrator out there," he confessed to Amelia, an unsettling feelingwashing over him like a shroud.

“Two?” Amelia asked, her voicefraught with unease.

“Maybe,” Finn said. “I have afeeling that this Tempus machine stuff, as crazy as it is, is some sort ofcult. Who knows what they might be working on?”

"You don't actually believe inthis stuff, do you?" Amelia said.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe,”Finn answered, his voice stoic. “All that matters is that they do.That’s enough to make them more dangerous than anything we’ve ever facedtogether.”

CHAPTER NINE

The train carriage lay cloaked inshadows, the flickering paraffin lamps casting dancing silhouettes on therusted metal walls. The air inside was thick with neglect, carrying hints ofdecay that lingered heavily around the killer as he moved through the narrowcorridor. Each step he took echoed softly, blending with the eerie symphony ofcreaks and groans that seemed to echo ancient secrets within the carriage.

His hand brushed against cold,metallic doors as he passed by sealed compartments, their windows boarded uptightly, trapping forgotten histories within. Finally reaching the end of thecarriage, a sense of anticipation coiled in his chest as he pushed open a doorthat protested with a faint squeal from rusty hinges.

Inside, dust motes danced in dimlight filtering through grimy windows, revealing a scene frozen in time. An oldleather-bound book rested on a weathered seat, its yellowed pages bearing thename Ezra Bellamy. The significance of the name sent a thrill down his spine.

Opening the book revealed intricatescript detailing arcane knowledge and forbidden secrets. Each page pulsed withhidden power, drawing him further into its mysterious allure. Symbols dancedbefore his eyes, weaving tales of ancient wisdom and dark intent.

As he delved deeper into its pages,a sense of connection thrummed through him like an electric current. This wasmore than just a book; it held promises of control and dominance over those whodared defy its words.

A malevolent grin twisted his lipsas he absorbed the knowledge within those pages, feeling an exhilarating rushcourse through his veins. The world would soon bow before him under forcesbeyond mortal understanding.

In this forgotten corner ofLondon's underground labyrinth, amidst shadows and whispers of bygone eras, thekiller embraced his destiny with newfound clarity. Armed with Ezra Bellamy'slegacy, he prepared to wield unimaginable power to fulfill their shared vision.

Closing the book reverently, hetucked it securely under his arm as he readied to leave this eerie sanctuarybehind. The echoes of past deeds lingered in the air around him as he steppedout into darkness once more, emboldened by what lay ahead on this fatefulnight.

In the dim light of the abandonedtrain carriage, the killer reached into the inner pocket of his coat andretrieved a crumpled sheet of paper. Unfolding it with deliberate care, hiseyes scanned the list of names scrawled in elegant script. Each name heldsignificance, each individual marked for a purpose only he understood.

A chilling smile crept across hisface as he whispered to himself, the words barely more than a breath in thestagnant air. "All with the special knowledge must die, so that the TempusMachine can live."

The weight of his mission bore downon him like a mantle of darkness, fueling his resolve with an unholy fervor.The power promised by the Tempus Machine was too great to allow any whopossessed such forbidden knowledge to stand in its way.

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