Page 47 of Lost Echoes
But fear clamps down. If I say it aloud, it becomes real. And once it’s real, I can’t deny it.
Instead, I force my voice steady and say, “I didn’t get far. I had to turn back. It’s going to take time.”
It’s not a lie. But it’s not the truth either.
Ember nods, though something flickers in her eyes—like she knows I’m holding back. Luke just writes faster, lines of arrows connecting names and dates and fragments of memory. “Then we keep digging.”
I swallow hard, nodding in agreement. But inside, I feel like the walls are closing in.
There’s one piece of the puzzle I’m too afraid to set on the table.
And it has my mother’s face.
Luke’s pen stops mid-scratch. He looks up at me, not unkind, but sharp in a way that makes me sit straighter. “You’re holding something back.”
It isn’t a question. The words hit me like a stone in my chest. Ember shoots him a look, but he doesn’t waver.
“Luke…”
“We don’t have time to wait. People are disappearing, records are being deleted, kids are still down there. If you know something and you don’t say it, you’re not protecting yourself. You’re putting all of us at risk.”
My mouth goes dry. I grip my knees to keep them from shaking.
Ember’s voice is gentler, but no less insistent. “Billa, we’re in this together. Whatever you saw, whatever you found, we can handle it. But we can’t do it blind.”
I see it again. My mother’s profile bent under the light, her hand flipping through files that never should have been within her reach. The way her eyes almost met mine. The raw, impossible reality of it.
My voice shakes when I answer. “I told you. I saw the sub-level. That’s all.”
Luke doesn’t blink. “No, that’s not all. What are you holding back?”
Heat rises behind my eyes. My chest feels like it’s caving in. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help us,” he says, leaning in, voice low but urgent. “Make us understand. Don’t make me guess while people’s lives are on the line.”
The silence stretches. Ember’s gaze flicks between us, her lips pressed tight.
But the words won’t come. I can’t let them.
Finally, I push back from the table, standing too quickly. “I need air.”
Before either of them can stop me, I’m already at the door. This is too much.
Once outside, the night air is cool against my face, but it doesn’t calm me. I step off the porch and keep going, down the gravel path until the mansion’s lights are a faint glow behind me.
Luke’s voice won’t leave my head. You’re holding something back. Don’t make me guess while people’s lives are on the line.
He’s right. Every word is right.
But how do I tell them? How do I make myself say it aloud?
I wrap my arms around myself, walking faster, until the path gives way to trees. The branches close in overhead, crickets humming like a low, steady pulse.
My thoughts circle like vultures.
Mom was there—she’s part of this. What does that mean for me? For everything I’ve buried?
I press a hand to my chest, my heartbeat frantic beneath my palm. What if I’m more like her than I want to believe?
