Page 54 of Whispers in the Quarter

I look between them—my brilliant madman, my steady musician, and my righteous predator. Alex will come back, the organization isn’t fully destroyed, and there are still so many shadows to navigate.

But for the first time since Celeste died, I’m not dancing alone.

“Together then,” I say, and their answering smiles hold beautiful promises of chaos and protection, love and darkness, justice and revenge.

Let Alex come. Let the whole damn organization try to stop us.

They have no idea what they’re really hunting.

EPILOGUE

ETHAN

PERSONAL JOURNAL—Councilman Davis Location: Private Safe

They think they’re dismantling my organization. They don’t understand what they’re really uncovering. The girl—she’s getting too close.

Some graves should stay buried. Some truths are better left in shadow.

Rain slicks the streets of the French Quarter, turning neon signs into watercolor smears. I adjust my collar against the damp, keeping to the shadows as I track my target. The tip came in an hour ago—movement at the docks. My pulse quickens as a familiar silhouette appears: Councilman Davis, the organization’s public face.

My phone buzzes.

Lucas: The compound you requested is ready, my Saint. Do try not to get too... creative with its application. Though the effects on human tissue are absolutely fascinating...

I smile, remembering the manic gleam in his eyes when he handed me the vial. My brilliant madman, always pushing boundaries. Another text follows.

Jazz: Package delivered. Your FBI credentials still open all the right doors, brother.

Ghost: Remember, we need him alive. He has information about Celeste that could change everything.

That last message makes me pause. There’s something in her tone lately whenever Davis is mentioned—something she’s not telling any of us yet. But we all have our shadows, our secrets. She’ll share when she’s ready.

Movement catches my eye. Through the rain, I spot Alex watching from a rooftop. He survived our warehouse encounter, but he’s lost his perfect control. Now he’s scrambling, watching his carefully built empire crumble, not realizing we’re building something far more dangerous in its place.

My phone buzzes again.

Unknown number: Impressive work, Agent Blake. The organization could use someone with your... particular talents.

I share the message in our group chat, enjoying the replies.

Lucas: !!!!!

Jazz: Like we need more complications.

But it’s my Ghost’s response that makes me smile.

Ghost: Let them think they’re recruiting you. After all, every shadow needs a light to cast it.

I touch the scar on my arm from our warehouse confrontation—the moment I finally stopped pretending to be something I wasn’t. Lucas may claim he helped me evolve, but we all know he just gave me permission to be what I always was.

A hunter who understands his prey. A righteous man who finally embraced his darkness. A monster who chose his own pack.

“You finally understand, don’t you?”Lauren’s voice whispers in my mind, as real as the rain on my skin. Not accusing now, like she used to be in my dreams. No, ever since I stopped pretending to be righteous, her ghost has felt... proud.“Some monsters need to be hunted by other monsters.”

I smile into the darkness. She always knew what I really was, even before I could admit it to myself. Maybe that’s why they had to kill her—she saw too clearly, understood too much.

“I see them now, Lauren,” I whisper back. “All the shadows you were trying to show me.”

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