The town of Ashwood had never been this quiet. Not even after the first murder, not even after Emily Hayes disappeared all those years ago. It was a suffocating kind of silenceâthe kind that made the creak of a floorboard or the rustle of leaves seem like thunderclaps.
Lucas Grey sat in his dimly lit office at the station, the old photograph of the Brotherhood spread out in front of him. He couldn't shake the image of Tom, the mailman, lying lifeless in the alley. The man had been friendly, unassumingâyet there he was, another victim with the killer's sinister symbol carved into his skin.
The Brotherhood's members were falling, one by one.
The photograph was faded and worn, but its contents weighed heavier on Lucas with each passing hour. Seven boysâgrinning, youthful, and full of arrogance. They stood together as though they owned the world, as though nothing could ever touch them.
But now, four of those boys were dead.
· John Carver: The mechanic, hung from the oak tree.
· Samuel Harper: The farmer, throat slit and dumped in the creek.
· Aaron Moore: The teacher, tortured before his death.
· Tom Marsh: The mailman, discovered just hours ago.
That left only three boys from the original photo.
But then there was Michael Ward, the local mason and the killer's fourth victim. Michael hadn't been in the original photograph; he had joined the Brotherhood later. That alone was a crucial clueâthe murders weren't just about the seven boys in the picture. There was something deeper tying them together.
Lucas couldn't ignore the growing sense of urgency. With four dead, three remaining, and no pattern to determine who might be next, the killer was steps ahead.
Emma had been silent since Tom's body was discovered. Lucas had insisted on driving her back to her grandmother's house, but Emma had refused. "I don't want to be alone," she'd said quietly.
Instead, she sat across from Lucas at the station, her knees pulled to her chest as she stared at the photograph. Her usual warmth had faded, replaced by a haunted expression.
"You're thinking about your father," Lucas said, breaking the silence.
Emma nodded. "He was part of this," she whispered. "Part of whatever this Brotherhood was. And it got him killed."
Lucas leaned forward, his tone firm yet gentle. "Emma, your father left the Brotherhood. He tried to break away. That's important."
"But it didn't save him," Emma replied, her voice trembling. "What if it doesn't save me?"
"You're not alone in this," Lucas said. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
Lucas returned to the photograph, his focus sharpening. "We need to identify the three remaining men," he said.
Emma leaned over, pointing to the far left. "That's Oliver Kent. He left Ashwood years ago. He's in Chicago now."
Lucas made a note. "And this one?"
"Ryan Fischer," Emma said, her voice steadier. "He owns the hardware store on Main Street. He's always been... odd."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Odd how?"
Emma hesitated. "Just... secretive. Quiet. But not in the same way as Michael. With Ryan, it always felt like he was hiding something."
Lucas nodded. "And the last one?"
Emma's expression darkened as she pointed to the boy in the center. "Matthew Hayes," she said softly. "Emily's older brother."
Lucas felt his pulse quicken. Matthew Hayes had vanished after his sister's disappearance, his name slipping from the town's memory like a whisper.
Despite the late hour, Lucas decided to visit Ryan Fischer. Leaving Emma under the protection of Sheriff Cole, he headed to the hardware store.
The store was dark when he arrived, its windows boarded up as though Ryan was preparing for a storm. Lucas knocked on the door, his hand resting on his holster.
"Ryan Fischer," he called out. "It's Detective Grey. I need to speak with you."
There was no response. Lucas knocked again, harder this time.
"Ryan!"
A faint noise from inside made Lucas tense. He reached for his flashlight, shining it through the cracks in the boarded windows. The beam illuminated a small, cluttered workspaceâbut no sign of Ryan.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the alley behind the store. Lucas spun around, his gun drawn as he moved cautiously toward the sound.
"Ryan?" he called out.
But as he turned the corner, the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his temple.
"Drop it," a voice growled.
Lucas froze, his heart pounding. Slowly, he lowered his weapon, letting it fall to the ground.
"Turn around," the voice ordered.
Lucas obeyed, coming face-to-face with a masked figure. The mask was grotesque and twisted, but what struck Lucas most was the man's stanceâcalm, deliberate, as though he'd done this before.
"You're making a mistake," Lucas said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through him.
The figure tilted his head, almost amused. "No, Detective. You are."
Before Lucas could respond, the masked man struck him across the head, sending him into darkness.
When Lucas came to senses, he was lying on the cold, damp ground of the forest. His wrists were bound, and the faint glow of the moon filtered through the trees.
His mind raced. The killer had brought him here for a reason, but why?
He scanned the area, his eyes landing on a sharp rock nearby. Slowly, carefully, he maneuvered his hands toward it, the ropes cutting into his skin as he worked to free himself.
Footsteps approached, crunching on the leaves. Lucas worked faster, his heart pounding.
Just as the killer stepped into view, Lucas broke free, lunging forward and knocking the man off balance. The two struggled, the forest echoing with the sounds of their fight.
Finally, Lucas managed to gain the upper hand, pinning the killer to the ground. He ripped off the mask, his breath catching as he stared into the man's face.
It wasn't Ryan Fischer. It wasn't Oliver Kent.
It was Jacob WardâMichael's brother.
Jacob's face twisted into a sneer. "You think you're solving this? You have no idea what you're up against."
Lucas tightened his grip. "Then enlighten me."
Jacob laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "The Brotherhood... it's bigger than you think. It's not just the seven of them. It's the whole damn town."
Lucas's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"
Jacob's expression darkened. "Ask Emma," he said. "Ask her what her father was really hiding."
Before Lucas could press further, Jacob reached into his pocket, pulling out a small vial. Before Lucas could stop him, Jacob bit down on it, the liquid spilling into his mouth.
"No!" Lucas shouted, but it was too late. Jacob convulsed, his body seizing before going still.
Lucas sat back, his mind reeling. The Brotherhood wasn't just a group of boysâit was a web of secrets that had ensnared the entire town.
And Emma's father had been at the center of it all.
As Lucas stumbled back to the station, one thought consumed him:
The real killer wasn't done yet.