“Darrow lied to you,” I said, staring down at her. “Just like you lied to everyone else.”

Liam stood up, keeping a watchful eye on Beatrice while he checked his watch again.

“They should be here within minutes,” he said, looking toward the main entrance.

The silence of the derelict hall returned, heavy and tense.

Outside, the wind howled against the charred outer walls of the charity hall.

Inside, the smell of gasoline remained, a constant reminder of how close we had come to the edge.

I kept my grip tight on Beatrice, my fingers aching from the strain.

My eyes kept drifting to the dark corridor behind the stage.

Chloe was still out there, somewhere in the shadows of this ruined place.

Suddenly, the phone in Liam’s hand stopped ringing.

A moment later, a loud, scraping sound echoed from the deep darkness of the rear hallway.

It sounded like a heavy metal door being forced open.

We all froze, listening intently.

Beatrice’s eyes darted toward the sound, a strange, desperate hope flaring in her gaze.

“Chloe?” I called out, my voice echoing off the concrete walls.