Page 69 of Lost Echoes

She studies me for a long moment, then nods. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” I echo.

She moves toward the bed she claimed for the night. “We should get some rest. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“I will.” Though I’m not sure I’ll actually be able to get any sleep.

After she’s under the covers with eyes closed, I sit on the edge of my bed and roll the spool between my fingers until the thread loosens and spills over the edge of the table, uncoiling across the floor like a path.

For one dizzying moment, it almost looks like it’s leading somewhere.

I don’t pull it back. I let it stretch out, winding toward the door, toward morning.

Because whatever happens next, whatever curtain falls, I’ll be the one holding the thread.

Not Dr. Radley. Not Laurel.

Me.

35

Ember

The fog rolls low across the parking lot, silver under the floodlights. Everything feels suspended, even sound itself is a breath across space.

Luke kills the engine. For a moment, we just sit there, the hum of the car fading into silence. Ahead of us, the Willow Glen Institute rises from the mist as a modern shell with too many windows, too few lights. On the surface, it looks like every other state-funded research center. But underneath, it has the same sick energy that clung to Radley Hospital.

It’s a feeling I can’t describe but recognize right away.

My heart pounds. “This is really happening.”

Luke squeezes my hand. “We move when they do. Are you ready?”

I square my shoulders. “After everything they’ve done to my family? Possibly even to my mom? You’d better believe it.”

Through the windshield, I can see movement by the side entrance. Billa and Florencia step out of the shadows, both wearing dark jackets, both appearing impossibly calm, though I know they have to be nervous too. Florencia carries a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Inside it are copies of Sofia’s files, the testimonies—everything we’ve built.

Sofia and Kenzi emerge next, walking close together. Kenzi’s hood is up, her face pale but composed. She looks small beside Sofia, but her posture is straight and deliberate. She’s ready.

I swallow hard, my hand hovering near the door handle. “Once we go in?—”

“There’s no halfway,” Luke finishes.

I glance at him. “You sure you want to risk your career for this?”

He smiles faintly. “Once all of this is exposed, it’ll be obvious what’s really going on. I’m not worried about their threats. If they have to stoop to ruining an elementary school PE teacher, that only shows how desperate they are.”

His words steady me. “True.”

We get out, our footsteps soft against the cracked asphalt. When we reach the others, Sofia lifts her head. The wind catches the loose strands of her hair, and for a moment, she looks almost luminous. “The internal staff changeover is in twelve minutes, and that’s our window. We go in as the prep team for the rehearsal. No names, no hesitation.”

Florencia nods. “Once we’re inside, we split. Luke and I set the recording lines. Ember and Billa go for the sub-level to find the holding rooms. Sofia and Kenzi handle the confrontation.”

The words ‘handle the confrontation’ make my stomach twist. It sounds too neat for what we’re about to do.

Billa squeezes my hand briefly. “Stay close. No matter what happens, we stick to the thread.”

I hate the spool reference, but she’s right.