Chapter 24

Evelyn woke to the sound of rain hitting glass.

For one disoriented second she thought she was still inside the neighboring apartment hallway, flashlight rolling somewhere across the floor while that distorted voice whispered through darkness.

Then pain bloomed sharply behind her eyes.

A ceiling came slowly into focus above her.

White.

Clean.

Unfamiliar.

She jerked upright too quickly.

“Easy.”

Adrian’s voice cut through the room immediately.

Evelyn froze.

He sat several feet away near the apartment windows, sleeves rolled back, dark circles beneath his eyes deeper than usual beneath weak morning light. Rain streaked silver behind him while a laptop glowed quietly on the coffee table between them.

Not her apartment.

His.

The realization hit all at once.

“What happened?”

Her throat sounded raw.

Adrian stood slowly from the chair.

“You collapsed.”

Fragments returned violently.

The hidden apartment.

Photographs.

The distorted voice.

Darkness.

Evelyn pressed trembling fingers against her forehead.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost nine hours.”

The number hollowed something inside her chest immediately.

Nine hours.

Gone again.

Her pulse accelerated.

“What did I do?”

Adrian didn’t answer right away.

That silence frightened her more than panic.

Rain tapped steadily against the windows while he crossed toward the laptop on the table.

“You need to see something first.”

The carefulness in his voice made her stomach tighten.

“No.”

“Evelyn.”

“What did I do?”

Adrian looked exhausted now in a way she hadn’t seen before. Not controlled exhaustion. Not elegant restraint.

Worry.

Real worry.

He opened the laptop slowly.

Security footage filled the screen.

Timestamp:

3:14 a.m.

Evelyn stared.

The footage showed her leaving the neighboring apartment after blacking out.

At first nothing looked unusual.

Then she noticed the way she moved.

Too calm.

Too steady.

No visible confusion.

No panic.

The version of herself on-screen walked through rain-dark streets with eerie focus before disappearing briefly off-camera.

The next clip loaded automatically.

A gas station twenty blocks downtown.

Evelyn stepped out of frame carrying a folded paper map.

Another clip.

Subway platform.

Another.

Street camera footage near the waterfront.

Each timestamp stretched the missing hours farther.

“What is this?” she whispered.

Adrian remained standing beside the couch.

“You memorized an address.”

Cold spread slowly through her chest.

“What address?”

Another clip appeared.

This one clearer.

Evelyn stood beneath a streetlamp in heavy rain speaking quietly to someone just outside frame.

Then she looked directly into the camera.

Not confused.

Certain.

And said:

“Black Hollow Retreat.”

The room went silent except for rain.

Evelyn stared at the screen.

No memory surfaced.

Nothing.

Just emptiness where those hours should have been.

“No,” she whispered.

Adrian closed the laptop gently.

“Mara traced the name this morning.”

Evelyn looked up sharply.

“And?”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“It’s an abandoned psychiatric retreat in Vermont.”

A terrible pressure settled immediately into the room.

Psychiatric retreat.

Storms.

Victor Cross.

Missing time.

Pieces were starting to align now into something far uglier than coincidence.

Evelyn stood abruptly from the couch.

The movement made dizziness ripple briefly through her vision.

“Why would I know that place?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you do know something.”

“Yes.”

Anger flashed instantly through her exhaustion.

“Then stop speaking to me like I’m fragile.”

Adrian’s expression shifted slightly at that.

Not irritation.

Recognition.

As though he knew exactly how much she hated feeling managed.

Rain moved softly across the tall windows behind him while morning light spread pale gray across the apartment.

For the first time since waking, Evelyn properly noticed the space around her.

Minimal furniture.

Books stacked neatly near the walls.

One dark wool coat draped over a chair.

Everything controlled.

Except the kitchen counter.

Coffee cups.

Open files.

Maps.

Adrian had been awake all night.

Watching her.

The realization should have frightened her more than it did.

Instead it just made her tired.

“Mara thinks the retreat connects back to your father,” Adrian said quietly.

Evelyn looked toward him again.

“Your father worked there.”

Not a question.

A pause.

Then:

“Yes.”

Something inside her went very still.

Outside, thunder rolled faintly through distant clouds again.

“How long have you known?”

“Since Blackwater.”

“And you never told me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Adrian looked down briefly.

When he answered, his voice sounded rougher than before.

“Because every time you got close to remembering it, you became dangerous to yourself.”

The wording settled heavily between them.

Dangerous to yourself.

Not others.

Herself.

Evelyn crossed slowly toward the windows.

The city below looked washed pale beneath stormlight, almost unreal through rain-streaked glass.

“What happened there?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know everything.”

“But enough.”

Silence answered first.

Then Adrian spoke carefully.

“My father believed the retreat experimented with memory suppression therapies after traumatic incidents.”

Evelyn turned sharply toward him.

“Experimented?”

“He left before it closed.”

“Why did it close?”

Another pause.

Then:

“Patients disappeared.”

The room seemed to contract slightly around her.

Rain hammered harder against the windows.

Evelyn wrapped both arms tightly across herself.

“And you think I was there.”

Adrian looked at her for a long moment before answering.

“I think part of you remembers it.”

Part of you.

Not all of you.

The implication sat heavily inside her chest.

Evelyn looked toward the laptop again.

The footage of herself moving through the city with purpose she couldn’t consciously access.

Something inside her had agency during the blackouts.

Goals.

Memories.

Intent.

That frightened her more than any killer possibly could.

She crossed quietly toward the kitchen counter near Adrian’s sink.

A recording device sat there beside one of her jackets.

Out of habit, her fingers almost reached for it automatically.

Then she stopped.

No more documenting.

No more narrating herself into safety.

Slowly, Evelyn opened the nearby drawer instead.

And pulled out a knife.