THE SHADOWS OF ECHO HILL

The storm rolled into Echo Hill long before the first body was found. Heavy clouds smothered the sky, the wind howled through the pine trees like something wounded, and the small mountain town seemed to shrink beneath the weight of it. No one saw the storm as a warning—until it was far too late.

Detective Mara Vance pulled her coat tighter as she stood outside the abandoned Briarwood Lodge. Two things didn’t sit right: the anonymous tip that summoned her here, and the fact that it came exactly one year after the disappearance of Evelyn Pierce—a case that had nearly broken her.

Mara’s flashlight cut through the thick darkness as she stepped inside. The lodge smelled of rot, dust, and something faintly metallic. Rain pounded the roof like frantic footsteps. As she moved deeper into the lobby, her phone vibrated.

A text.

Unknown number.

“You’re late.”

A chill rippled through her. She scanned the room, but no one was there—only shadows that thickened and shifted with each flash of lightning.

Another text arrived.

“Room 12.”

Mara swallowed hard. She remembered Room 12. It had been Evelyn’s room the night she vanished.

Her boots echoed down the hallway. The door to Room 12 stood slightly open, creaking on its hinge. She nudged it with her shoulder and lifted the flashlight.

The room was empty—except for a single photograph pinned to the wall. Mara stepped closer. The light trembled in her hand as she recognized the image: Evelyn standing in that exact room, smiling, alive.

But someone had scribbled something across the bottom in red ink:

“You stopped looking before you found the truth.”

Mara’s heart hammered. She had stopped looking. The Pierce case had gone cold, and eventually she’d been forced to move on. But she had never forgiven herself.

The floorboards creaked behind her.

She spun around.

“Hello?” she called, drawing her gun.

Silence.

Then—another sound. A faint knock. But not from the hallway. From inside the walls.

Mara froze. The knocking grew louder, more frantic. She pressed her ear to the cold wooden paneling.

A muffled voice.

Weak. Desperate.

“Help… please…”

Her blood ran cold.

She holstered her gun and grabbed the edge of the panel. It moved. Slowly, she pried it open—and stumbled back as a man collapsed out of the cramped crawl space, gasping for air, his skin sunken and pale as snow.

He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. “You… you’re Mara Vance?”

“Yes,” she said. “Who are you?”

“They hid us,” he whispered. “All of us.”

Before she could ask more, footsteps thundered down the hallway. Heavy, deliberate steps.

Mara pulled the man to his feet, slung his arm over her shoulder, and guided him into the corridor. The lights flickered violently. A shadow appeared at the far end—tall, broad, moving with chilling calm.

“Who’s there?” she shouted.

No answer.

The lights went out.

Pitch black.

The man beside her whimpered. Mara tightened her grip on him and moved by memory alone until she found the stairwell. She dragged him down the steps as thunder shook the building.

At the bottom, they slipped into the basement—a maze of old storage rooms lit only by her failing flashlight.

“Tell me what happened,” she said.

The man coughed, each breath rattling. “Briarwood wasn’t abandoned. Not really. They were using it. Locking people in. Experimenting on them.”

“Who?”

He shook his head violently. “I never saw their faces. Masks. Always masks.” Tears streaked down the dirt on his cheeks. “Evelyn… Evelyn tried to escape. They punished her. They took her deeper.”

Mara felt her stomach twist.

Still alive? A year later? Or had he meant had been alive?

Before she could question him, the basement door upstairs slammed open.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Controlled.

Hunting them.

Mara killed her flashlight. Darkness swallowed them whole.

She grabbed the man’s hand. “We keep moving.”

They crept through the basement until they reached the old boiler room. Pipes hissed overhead. The air was thick and humid. And then Mara saw it—a trapdoor in the floor, slightly ajar.

She knelt and lifted it.

A tunnel.

Fresh footprints in the dirt.

Evelyn’s?

The man tugged at her sleeve. “They use it to take people in and out. Cars meet them in the woods. No one notices.”

Mara swallowed. “You go first. I’ll follow.”

“No,” he whispered. “They want you.”

Before she could answer, the footsteps upstairs quickened. She shoved the man into the tunnel, closed the trapdoor behind him, and slid into the darkness.

The tunnel was narrow and cold. Roots dug into her back as she crawled. Ahead, she could hear the man breathing—and then suddenly, he stopped.

“Why did you stop?” she whispered.

A voice answered—but it wasn’t his.

Deep. Cold.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Detective.”

Mara’s blood iced over.

The flashlight flicked back to life, just for a second—long enough to illuminate the figure blocking the tunnel ahead. A mask—smooth, expressionless, inhuman—filled her vision.

She scrambled backward, twisting through the tight space. Hands reached for her from the darkness. She kicked and clawed until her fingers hit the edge of the trapdoor. She pushed it open and burst back into the boiler room.

Someone else was there.

A woman.

Pale. Thin. Eyes wide with fear and recognition.

“Mara?” the woman gasped.

Mara’s heart stopped.

“Evelyn?”

The footsteps thundered behind them. They didn’t have time for a reunion. Evelyn grabbed Mara’s wrist and yanked her toward a side door.

“This way!”

They ran into the storm, the freezing rain slapping their faces. Lightning cracked open the sky, illuminating the masked figure emerging from the lodge behind them—silent and relentless.

“Where do we go?” Mara shouted.

Evelyn squeezed her hand.

“We don’t run,” she said, voice trembling. “We finish this.”

Mara stared at her.

But Evelyn wasn’t afraid anymore. She had endured a year of hell—and she had come back different, harder, determined.

The masked figure stepped closer, rain dripping off his coat like black ink.

Evelyn whispered, “He’s not alone.”

Mara felt the air shift around them.

They were surrounded.

And the storm was just beginning.