Chapter 11

I barely slept the whole way back home. I couldn't get my mind to stop thinking about my old house. The fact that someone burned the house on purpose to derail my mission is scaring me. I'm not used to this kind of negativity in my life. I may have grown up in a rich family with absent parents, as my father was always travelling for business, and I have never felt that loneliness or needed his affection. But right now, I would be happy to even get a mere hug, that's how low I felt.

As soon as we arrived, I showered and went to bed, I scrolled through my cellphone as I waited and hoped that I could share the bed with Dan tonight. Even though it won't mean anything, I just don't want to be alone anymore. My hopes were met with disappointment because he didn't come. I sighed as I switched off my bedside lamp.

I found myself pacing back and forth outside Tyson's apartment, trying to figure out my reason for visiting him out of the blue. I need to tell someone else about Ridgewater before I go crazy, and Tyson is such a good listener. As I stepped into Tyson’s apartment, the first thing that caught my eye was the travel bag near the entryway.

It wasn’t supposed to be there.

Tyson was neat, almost obsessively so. The kind of person who folded laundry immediately after the dryer beeped and kept his shoes lined up by color and style. Seeing that heavy black duffel bag just sitting on the floor, half-zipped with a jacket carelessly hanging from the side, made something tighten in my chest.

He wasn’t expecting visitors. That much was clear. I closed the door behind me and took a slow step forward, my gaze drifting to the shoes beside the bag, mud-streaked. Not dried mud either. The soles still looked damp, and there were a few scuffed patches on the floor where he’d walked in without changing them.

That wasn’t like him at all.

“Tyson?” I called out gently, not hearing a response. I took another step, eyes scanning the rest of the space. The place was quiet, still carrying that faint, clean scent I remembered from before, like cedarwood and laundry detergent, but something felt different. Lived-in, yes. But rushed. Like he’d just come back from somewhere important, somewhere, he didn’t want anyone to know he’d been.

My heart beat a little faster.

Had he followed us to Ridgewater? The idea came fast, almost out of nowhere, but now it wouldn’t leave. I looked back at the bag again, feeling the pieces start to rearrange in my mind. The day before, his strange mood, the way he’d gone quiet during our last conversation, the look he’d given Dan that lingered too long. Something was off. And now, standing here in his apartment, staring at a bag that shouldn't have been on the floor, it felt like I was staring straight into the answer I wasn’t sure I wanted to find.

I didn’t have to wait long.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway. Tyson appeared from the bedroom, running a towel through his damp hair, his T-shirt clinging to his chest as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. He paused when he saw me standing by the bag.

His eyes flicked down, just for a second, then back to my face. "Didn’t hear you come in," he said, a forced lightness in his voice. "You scared me."

"I knocked." I gave him a small smile, masking the curiosity swirling in my chest. "You must have been in the shower."

He nodded, tossing the towel onto a chair. "Yeah. Rough night. Needed to clear my head."

I glanced back at the bag. "Where did you go?"

He followed my gaze, his smile dimming just slightly. "Nowhere far. Just needed air, you know?"

"Looks like somewhere far enough to pack for," I said, keeping my tone casual. "There’s mud on your shoes. Looks fresh. It rained up north last night."

Tyson’s jaw tensed for the briefest second. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed quietly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You’re really paying attention today."

"I always do," I replied, letting the words linger. "You left in a hurry?"

"No," he said quickly. Then, as if realizing that sounded defensive, he softened it. "I mean—I didn’t think I’d be gone long."

I tilted my head. "And were you?"

He hesitated. I could tell he was trying to read me, trying to figure out how much I knew. The truth was—I didn’t know much. But I felt it. In my gut. The same way I felt that heat before the fire. That pressure in the air before something broke.

"You went to Ridgewater, didn’t you?" I asked quietly.

Tyson’s silence was all the answer I needed. Why would he secretly follow us to Ridgewater and then not say anything? Was he the shadow that consistently hovered around the house whenever we were there?

I stepped closer. "Why?" He exhaled, then leaned against the edge of the table, crossing his arms. "I just… I had a feeling. Dan’s been tense for weeks. You’ve been distant. I didn’t trust what was going on, and I needed to see it for myself." I couldn't fathom what he was saying. Why would he be so concerned about me and Ridgewater so much that he follows us there?

"So you followed us."

"I wouldn’t say followed." He paused. "I went. Separately." I felt my insides drop at his confession. Is there anyone whom I can trust between the two brothers? They have been lying to me since the day they met me.

"And then what? Stood outside like a shadow? Watched us from the trees? Was that you at the fence line when the house started burning?"

Tyson straightened. "Wait, it burned?" His reaction was sharp, genuine. His brows furrowed, stepping toward me like I’d just told him something horrifying. "What do you mean it burned?"

I blinked. "It caught fire. Right after… someone showed up. I didn’t see their face. They disappeared." Tyson’s gaze darkened, lips pressing together. "That wasn’t me."

Now I was confused. "Then where were you?" I asked, not wanting to give in and give him the benefit of the doubt. He already lost my trust by lying to me; he could be lying right now. He looked at the bag again. For a long second, he didn’t say anything.

"Tyson?"

"I was there earlier," he admitted. "I wanted to see it for myself. The place your father owned. I didn’t expect to feel anything, but… being near it, it triggered something. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like the air was alive. And then I saw the burned patch behind the house, the fence, something’s wrong with that place."

"Something’s wrong with everything," I whispered. "I keep getting visions, dreams. Things I can’t explain. That fire wasn’t normal, Tyson. It didn’t spread like a fire should. It reacted to me."

Tyson stepped closer. For the first time since I’d walked in, he looked serious. Not playing games, not testing boundaries.

"You think this is just about Dan and that inheritance. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?"

"What inheritance?"