Ward walked over to my father and extended his hand.

“We have the main servers,” Ward said. “The federal attorney is already drafting the indictments.”

“Thank you, Samuel,” my father said, shaking his hand.

“What will you do now?” Ward asked.

My father looked at me.

“I have a garden to tend,” my father said. “And a daughter to take home.”

Ward smiled, nodded once to me, and walked toward the command vehicle.

The flashing lights began to pull away, one by one, down the long, winding driveway.

The siren wails grew faint in the distance.

The estate was quiet now, the only sound being the drip of water from the stone eaves.

My father put his arm around my shoulder.

“Are you ready, Emily?” he asked.

I looked back at the large, dark house.

It did not look scary anymore.

It just looked empty.

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s go home.”

We walked down the steps to his old truck, the gravel crunching under our feet.

The heater in the truck hummed to life, blowing warm air over our cold hands.

As we drove through the gates of the estate, I did not look back.

The road ahead was dark, but for the first time in years, I was not afraid of what was waiting in the shadows.