Chapter 9 Ghosts in the Hall

Mark Eldrin had been dead to the world for three years.

Not officially. His name still lingered on old war files and burial lists marked presumed fallen. But those who had known him truly known him had learned not to ask. Mark was the kind of man who vanished for a reason.

And now, he was back.

Emily stared across the war room table at him, arms folded tight. His coat was dusty from travel. A long scar curved down his neck, fresh enough to bleed.

Who pulled you out of hiding? she asked.

He didn't blink. "I came on my own."

She didn't believe him. Not entirely.

Mark's gaze drifted toward the door where Ruth and Ivy stood, silent. Tension filled the air like smoke after fire.

I saw the explosion, he said. And then the name.

You mean Raphael's? Ruth asked, stepping forward.

No, Mark said, locking eyes with Ivy. "Mine."

Ivy's jaw clenched, just slightly.

Emily stepped in, voice low. Someone leaked classified records. Someone who wanted to draw you back."

Mark met her stare. Or someone who wanted me dead.

Down in the cells, Raphael sat upright again. He could feel the shift above him hear the change in footfalls. Something had shaken Emily.

And she hadn't come back.

That was dangerous.

Because absence bred doubt.

And doubt... was leverage.

Night fell hard.

Emily stood on the old battlements, the wind lashing through her uniform. Below, the fires from the explosion had been extinguished, but not the heat burning in her chest.

She didn't hear Ivy approach until she spoke.

You think Mark's the one behind it.

I think everyone's playing a game, Emily replied. And I'm the prize.

Ivy nodded once. Then play better.

Emily's gaze didn't leave the ruined horizon. "I'm not sure I remember how."

There was silence.

Then Ivy said, "You're not the only one who's broken, Emily. But you're the only one who still thinks she has to hide it."

That night, a coded message slipped through the cracks of the prison wall.

Raphael unfolded it with slow, careful fingers.

Just two words, written in crimson ink:

He remembers.

He smiled.