Chapter 5 - THE MAN BEHIND THE MONSTER
For three years, I believed I watched Elias Voss die.
I remembered the execution.
The witnesses.
The final words.
The official report.
Everything.
But now he was standing in front of me.
Alive.
Older.
Different.
But alive.
My weapon was already in my hand.
My mind was racing.
Impossible explanations fought against reality.
Elias looked at me.
And smiled.
Not like a killer.
Like someone who had been waiting.
“Hello, James.”
Hearing my first name from him felt worse than hearing my own death sentence.
I looked at Captain Hayes.
“What is this?”
Hayes lowered his weapon slightly.
“You were never supposed to find the basement.”
I laughed quietly.
“You’re worried about the basement?”
I pointed at Elias.
“You brought a dead man into my house.”
Elias stepped forward.
“Dead men are useful.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
He looked at the files scattered across the floor.
“It means people stop looking for answers when the monster is already convicted.”
My anger exploded.
“You murdered six people.”
His expression changed.
For the first time.
Pain.
“You still believe that.”
Captain Hayes interrupted.
“James, listen carefully.”
“No.”
I aimed at him.
“You listen.”
My voice shook.
“Tell me why my father knew about this.”
Silence.
That silence told me everything.
Hayes looked away.
And that was the answer.
Elias walked toward the documents.
“Your father discovered the organization behind everything.”
“What organization?”
“The people who decide which stories become truth.”
I watched him carefully.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I expect you to investigate.”
My phone vibrated.
All three of us looked at it.
A new message.
Not from Elias.
Not from Hayes.
A new number.
The message contained a photo.
A live photo.
Taken seconds ago.
From outside the basement window.
The picture showed us standing together.
Me.
Hayes.
Elias.
Someone was watching.
The text appeared.
“You found the first three.”
Another message.
“But you still haven’t found the first one.”
My blood went cold.
Because I finally understood.
The phrase on my ceiling.
THE FIRST ONE WAS YOU.
It wasn’t a threat.
It was a confession.
The killer wasn’t saying I was the next victim.
He was saying I was the beginning.
The basement door slammed shut.
The lights turned off.
And from the darkness outside the room…
May you like
A fourth voice whispered.
“Welcome back, Detective Miller.”
