Page 255 of Psycho Pack

I sigh. "We're here."

Finally.

The abandoned church where the fateful meeting is taking place looms before us through the pre-dawn mist, its broken spires jutting up from the crumbling stone like the gnarled fingers of a corpse clawing its way out of the earth. Gothic arches, their edges worn smooth by decades of neglect, frame shattered stained glass windows that stare out at us like hollow eyes. The glass that remains catches the first weak rays of sunlight, casting sickly purple and red shadows across the weathered stone. Nature has begun to reclaim the building, thick vines crawling up the walls like veins on a dying body.

I ease the vehicle to a stop at the base of the crumbling steps. The wheels crunch over broken glass and debris, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness. A rusted iron gate hangs askew from its hinges, creaking softly in the cold morning breeze.

"Well, this isn't creepy as fuck at all," Whiskey mutters from behind me.

I have to agree, though I keep the thought to myself. The building seems to radiate an aura of decay and abandonment that makes my skin crawl. Even the air feels thick with the weight of forgotten prayers and broken faith.

Ivy leans forward in her seat, studying the church with intense interest. Her ocean eyes catch what little light there is as she takes in every detail. "Those carvings around the door," she says softly. "They're Vrissian, aren't they?"

I nod, impressed by her observation. "This was built during the occupation, before the war. When Vrissia still had influence this far south." I point to the weathered inscriptions above the massive oak doors. "See how the letters are carved at an angle? That's traditional stonework."

"Fascinating," Whiskey drawls. "Maybe we can have a history lesson after we make sure this ain't a trap that's gonna get us all killed."

He's right, of course, but I can't help studying the magnificent feat of architecture more carefully now that we're here. A murder of crows takes flight from one of the broken spires as we exit the vehicle, their harsh cries echoing off the stone walls. It's exactly the kind of dramatic bullshit I'd expect from a Reinmich negotiator. They always have a flair for the theatrical.

Soon, we'll know if this is a legitimate exchange or an elaborate trap. Knowing our luck, it's probably both. But with Ivy's quiet strength beside me, Whiskey's irreverent humor keeping us sane, and my certainty Valek is watching over us from wherever he's perched...

Maybe we stand a chance.

And maybe I'll get my brother back.

Even if he tries to kill me.

"Stay in the car," I murmur to Ivy, slipping out before she has the chance to argue. I feel her scowling at the back of my head, though.

Whiskey drops out after me and he's uncharacteristically silent as we prowl around the grounds, looking for any sign of a trap.

Or the enemy lying in wait.

I scan the crumbling church grounds one final time, taking in every shadow and potential hiding spot. Movement catches my eye—a flash of white on the distant cliffs that vanishes as quickly as it appears. Valek. At least he picked a good vantage point.

"Notice anything strange?" I ask Whiskey, keeping my voice low.

He hesitates, looking around with exaggerated caution. "What, like a ghost?"

"No, you idiot," I snap. "Not a ghost." Though technically it is a Ghost, I think wryly. If Whiskey hasn't spotted Valek'sposition, that's actually a good sign. Means our enemies won't either.

"The snake's here, isn't he?" Whiskey mutters, tension evident in his broad shoulders as he looks around.

"Don't draw attention to him," I warn. "We might need the backup." I grab his arm before he can protest further. "If anything happens, take Ivy and head directly northwest. Valek will cover you."

Whiskey starts to argue but I'm already walking back to the car. "You can come out now," I call to Ivy.

She emerges gracefully, her white cloak catching the low light. Her widening eyes take in the abandoned church and overgrown grounds. "It feels peaceful," she murmurs.

"Yeah, well, you like spooky goth shit. Like Wraith," Whiskey quips, but his hand stays near his weapon.

"So do you," I point out.

He pauses, looking me over curiously. "Never thought of it that way. You do kinda give vampire vibes."

I roll my eyes. "Just shut up and watch the road."

We wait in tense silence as the sun crests the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink.