Whispers of the Turning Seasons (part 9)

Evelyn stood completely still.

Her name.
On a list.
A list of people who were supposed to disappear.

Her breath came slow, uneven. Snow pressed against her cheeks like cold fingers, grounding her in a reality she wished wasn’t true.

She swallowed hard.

“You’re lying,” she whispered.

Rowan didn’t flinch. “I wish I were.”

Evelyn’s gaze darted toward her darkened house, now almost invisible behind the sheets of falling snow. The idea of someone inside—someone searching for something that belonged to her—made her legs weak.

“Why would my name be on something like that?” she asked.

“Because your mother refused to cooperate,” Rowan said gently. “Santoro believed she knew too much. When she took the list, he put her and ‘any bloodline connected to her’ on the watch protocol.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened.

“So because she tried to protect people, they decided we deserved to… vanish?”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Santoro wanted leverage. Your mother took something dangerous from dangerous people. Threatening you was his final move.”

Something inside her cracked—pain mixed with rage.

“My mother never told me,” she said. “She never said a word.”

“She wanted you to live a normal life,” Rowan replied. “To think you were safe.”

“Well, she failed,” Evelyn whispered bitterly.

Rowan fell silent.

The wind howled down the street, swirling snow into sharp spirals. Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her mind.

“Let me see the list,” she said suddenly.

Rowan’s eyes flicked up. “You can’t.”

“I deserve to know who else is on it.”

“It’s not that simple,” Rowan said. “The list is incomplete. Some names were removed; others added later. Your mother only managed to hide one version.”

“Where is it now?”

“You,” Rowan said quietly. “You’re holding the only key she left behind.”

Evelyn froze.

“The box.”

“Yes.”

“But the box is empty,” Evelyn argued. “There was nothing inside but a letter.”

“That’s because you haven’t opened the real compartment yet.”

Her pulse jumped. “What compartment?”

Rowan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Your mother built things,” he said. “Secret drawers. False bottoms. She was clever. She didn’t hide the list somewhere obvious. She hid it in a place only you would know to look. Or… a place she hoped you’d eventually discover.”

Evelyn felt the weight of the box in her memory—the strange heaviness, the carved edges, the way the wood felt too thick for its size.

“Why didn’t you tell me this from the beginning?” she asked.

“Because the more you know, the more danger you’re in.”

“And I’m not already in danger?” she snapped.

A sharp sound cut through the air—something metallic, echoing from the direction of her house.

Both of them tensed.

“Stay close,” Rowan whispered.

They moved behind a parked car, crouching low. Ice crackled under their boots. The only light came from a flickering streetlamp that buzzed against the storm.

Evelyn peeked over the car’s hood.

A silhouette appeared in her doorway.

Tall.
Still.
Watching the street.

But this time, he wasn’t hiding.

He stepped out onto her porch, the snow crunching under deliberate steps.

Evelyn’s breath caught. “Is that him?”

Rowan didn’t answer. He slid slightly in front of her, protective, eyes fixed on the figure.

“That’s not Santoro,” Rowan murmured. “And it’s not one of his men.”

“Then who—”

The figure moved suddenly, turning away from the street. His hand lifted, revealing something Evelyn couldn’t see clearly. He seemed to be speaking into a device—maybe a phone, maybe a radio.

“He’s calling someone,” Rowan whispered.

“Reporting?” Evelyn guessed.

“Or waiting for confirmation.”

“Confirmation of what?”

Rowan looked at her, eyes narrowing.

“That you ran. That you escaped. That he needs backup.”

Evelyn’s heart pounded. “We have to leave. Now.”

Rowan didn’t move.

“There’s something else you need to know before we do.”

“Now? Rowan, someone is trying to drag me into a van or worse—”

“It’s about the list,” Rowan said firmly. “About another name on it.”

Evelyn’s panic stalled.

“…Who?”

Rowan hesitated.

Then he said the last name she expected to hear:

“Detective Marcus Hale.”

The world seemed to fall silent.
Not even the storm made a sound.

“Marcus?” Evelyn whispered. “Why would he be on the list?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Rowan said quietly. “Before he disappears too.”