The silence after Campbell's exit was suffocating, settling over the room like a heavy fog, pressing into every corner with unspoken tension. I sat on the edge of the sofa, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, while Ridge leaned back in an armchair, his expression unreadable. Even the faint hum of the overhead light felt deafening in the stillness.

My eyes landed on the bottle of whiskey Frank had pulled out earlier. The amber liquid caught the light, glinting faintly. I reached for Ridge's glass, the cool surface of the bottle smooth against my palm, and poured myself a drink.

The sharp scent hit me first, making me hesitate. I hated whiskey. But in that moment, I hated the silence more. In one swift motion, I tipped the glass back, the liquid burning its way down my throat. It clawed at my insides, and I coughed softly, setting the glass down with a dull thud against the coffee table.

It didn't help—not really—but at least it gave me something else to focus on, even if only for a moment.

"Didn't think you were a whiskey drinker," Ridge remarked, his voice low, cutting through the heavy quiet. His gaze flicked to the empty glass, then back to me, a faint curiosity glimmering in his otherwise guarded expression.

"I'm not," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "But desperate times..." My voice trailed off, the words feeling heavier than I intended.

Frank pulled a cigarette from his packet and held it out to me. I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes. A part of me wanted to see the photograph he'd shown Campbell, to make sense of the emotions twisting in my chest. But another part of me—the bigger part—knew I couldn't handle any more tonight. Not yet.

"You don't need to worry about anyone getting in here," Frank said, his tone firm but carrying a faint edge, like he was trying to convince himself as much as us.

Without waiting for a response, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote. "Let me show you."

The low, mechanical hum startled me, cutting through the silence like a blade. My heart jumped, and my head snapped toward the windows.

The heavy roller shutters began descending, sliding smoothly into place. The metallic clunk as they locked into position sent a shiver down my spine. The faint glow of the streetlights disappeared, swallowed by the solid steel, leaving the room dim and almost oppressively dark.
My fingers curled into my lap as I forced myself to breathe, to focus on the reassuring steadiness of Ridge beside me and the calm authority Frank tried so hard to project.

"These are reinforced steel," Frank explained, nodding toward the now-covered windows. "No one's breaking through them."

I ran my hands through my hair, my fingers catching in the curls as I tried to shake the unease settling in my chest. The shutters felt less like protection and more like a cage closing around us. I glanced at Ridge, who hadn't moved, his arms resting on the armchair's sides as he watched Frank. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his posture that made me wonder if he felt the same weight pressing in on him.

Frank turned briskly, gesturing for us to follow. "Come on."

The faint mechanical whirr of the shutters still echoed in my ears as I stood, my legs feeling heavier than they should. I exchanged a glance with Ridge, who rose silently, his movements as deliberate as Frank's but lacking the urgency. He fell into step beside me, the warmth of his presence grounding me in the dim room.

We followed Frank out of the living area and into the narrow hallway. The air felt thicker here, the faint smell of stale smoke clinging to the walls. The soft creak of the floorboards beneath Frank's measured steps was the only sound, amplifying the heavy silence that surrounded us. We passed the door leading down to the pub, and the faint hum of activity from below filtered through the thick metal, a distant reminder of normalcy that felt worlds away.

"The door I led you through earlier," Frank said, pausing in front of it, "has a combi keypad with an electronic lock. I'll set it before I come back upstairs. No one's getting through without the code." He tapped the frame lightly, the sound crisp in the quiet hallway. "This place is more secure than it looks."

His voice was calm, confident, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. He was trying to reassure us—or maybe himself. I nodded, forcing a faint smile I didn't feel, though the knot in my stomach only twisted tighter.

Frank straightened and continued down the hall, stopping at the first door. "Sam, this is your room," he said, pushing it open. The room was small but clean, with a double bed tucked against the far wall and a wardrobe in the corner. The shutters over the window were down, plunging the space into an almost suffocating darkness.

I stepped inside, the air feeling heavier somehow. My fingers brushed against the cool metal of the bedframe as I glanced around, trying to focus on anything but the shadows pressing against the walls.
"Thanks," I murmured, my voice barely audible.
Frank nodded before turning to Ridge. "You're next door," he said, Ridge looked as if he was going to say something to me but Franks presence stopped him.

"Night" he finally said before following Frank who opened the second door. Ridge gave a curt nod, his movements deliberate and controlled as he stepped inside without a word.

Frank lingered in the hallway, his gaze shifting between us. "I'll be downstairs for a while," he said, his voice dipping slightly. "Need to let my staff go and cash up for the night." His eyes lingered on me for a beat longer.

"You're safe here, Sam. I'll make sure of it."

I forced myself to nod, my throat tight. His words should have been comforting, but instead, they felt like a promise too heavy to bear. Frank gave us one final nod before disappearing down the stairs, his footsteps fading into the quiet.

I shut the door to the room and the darkness from the shuttered window was absolute, swallowing the space whole. When I flicked on the bedside lamp, its soft glow barely reached the edges of the room. Instead of offering comfort, it deepened the shadows, making them feel larger, alive.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my fingers tangling in my hair. Tugging at the curls brought a faint, sharp jolt of pain that I clung to as if it could pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. My pulse thudded loudly in my ears, drowning out the faint creaks of the building settling. I tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in my chest, tight and unforgiving.

I slipped off my jeans and climbed under the covers, the sheets cold and unyielding against my skin. The faint scent of detergent clung to the fabric, familiar but not comforting. I pulled the blanket up to my chin, trying to convince myself I was safe, but the weight of it felt more like a restraint. My legs shifted restlessly, my thoughts churning like a storm I couldn't quiet.

Every time I closed my eyes, he was there. The hooded figure loomed, the glint of the knife in his hand searing itself into my memory.

She's mine.

The words scrawled in jagged handwriting burned behind my eyelids, as vivid as the first time I'd seen them. My chest tightened, and I bolted upright, the covers pooling around my waist.

The clock on the bedside table glowed faintly—2:47 AM. I'd been lying here for hours—or at least, it felt that way. My throat was dry, my skin prickling with unease. Every shadow in the room seemed to shift. Every creak of the building settling felt like footsteps.

I couldn't stay here. Not alone. The walls of the room were closing in, pressing against me with an invisible force I couldn't fight. My breaths came shallow and ragged as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the cool wood floor sending a shiver up my spine. I paused, gripping the edge of the mattress for a moment, before standing and padding quietly toward the door.

I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I listened to hear if Frank was a wake.
Ridge's door was just a few steps away I slowly turned the door knob of my own door and then slipped out tip toeing to the door next to mine where I quickly and quietly turned the handle and slipped inside.

Ridge's room was just as dark as mine, but the steady rhythm of his breathing reached me almost immediately, a quiet reassurance that steadied my pulse as I closed the door behind me.

He stirred as I approached the bed, the faint rustle of sheets breaking the stillness. Rolling onto his side, his eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep. When he saw me, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, softening his otherwise sharp features. He didn't say anything, just shifted slightly, lifting the edge of the blanket in silent invitation.

I crawled into the bed beside him, sliding under the covers. The warmth of his body surrounded me immediately, a quiet reassurance that softened the edges of my frayed nerves. His steady breathing created a calming rhythm, syncing with the faint hum of the night outside, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

Ridge shifted closer, his arm draping lightly over my waist. His fingertips brushed against the curve of my hip and then moved to my back in soft, absent movements, their rhythmic motion setting me at ease instantly.

"You okay?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, the words soft but threaded with quiet concern.

"I'm glad we told Campbell everything," I said into the darkness, my voice barely above a whisper. The truth of it settled in my chest, both reassuring and terrifying.

Ridge was quiet for a long moment, his breath steady against the crown of my head. "I am too," he said finally, his voice low. "You were right."

The quiet wrapped around us like a fragile cocoon, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the warmth of his presence. My fingers brushed against the fabric of his shirt, grounding me in a way I couldn't quite explain. There was something about Ridge—something that made me feel instantly safe.

"Do you think..." I trailed off, unsure if I even wanted the answer. "Do you think we'll find her?"

His fingers stilled for a moment against my back, the silence stretching. It didn't feel suffocating—not like the silence in my room had. This was calmer, steadier, as though he were searching for the right words. His breath was slow and even, a steady reassurance that filled the space where his answer should have been.

"We'll find her," he said finally, his voice low but resolute, as if he was willing it to be true.

I closed my eyes, the soft fabric of Ridge's shirt brushing against my fingertips as I tried to hold on to the warmth of his presence.
"I just don't know what the end game is," I said, my voice thin and strained. "I don't know why all this is happening."

Ridge's hand, resting lightly against my back, stilled for a moment. The pause was brief, but it carried a weight that made my skin prickle. Then his fingers resumed their slow, deliberate movement, tracing patterns I couldn't decipher. His voice was low when he spoke, the kind of tone you'd miss if you weren't listening closely. "I don't think anyone does—not yet. But we're closer than we were. Campbell has the pieces now. She'll figure it out."

I opened my eyes, letting them adjust to the dimness. The shadows stretched into the corners of the room, dark and formless, like they were hiding something just out of sight
"I just want this to be over" I whispered into Ridge's shirt.

Ridge let out a slow exhale, the warmth of it brushing against the crown of my head.
"Me too" he said, his voice steady but edged with exhaustion. His hand shifted slightly, his fingertips pressed into my back pulling me even closer.
"You need to try and sleep."

I nodded against him, even though the idea of sleep felt far away, like something I'd have to chase down and wrestle into submission.
"I know," I murmured, but the words sounded hollow in my own ears.
There was silence for a long while and I thought maybe he'd fallen back to sleep when he added,
"Oh, and Sam—please make sure you're back in your own room before Frank wakes up. I really don't want to deal with that." His voice was sleepy as he whispered it close to my ear his arms tightening around me.

A quiet laugh caught me off guard, soft and breathless. It felt strange in the heavy quiet, like it didn't quite belong, but it broke something in the tension coiled in my chest. "Right, because I'm sure he'd have a lot to say about this," I muttered, tilting my head slightly to glance up at Ridge.

His eyes were closed, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. The room was silent again except for his breathing and the distant creak of pipes settling Ridge kissed my head one last time and then I listened to the rhythm of his breathing until I fell asleep.