Weeks had passed since the fire beneath the Holloway house.
The town of Durnville breathed a tentative sigh of relief, but for Mara and Rowan, the nightmare was far from over.
Sitting in a dim café on the edge of town, Mara spread out a folder of photos, documents, and encrypted messages she'd intercepted.
Rowan leaned over her shoulder, tired eyes scanning the evidence.
"This isn't just a local cult," Mara said quietly. "It's a network. Cities, states—even countries. The Cleaners are everywhere."
Rowan's hand trembled as he pointed to a grainy surveillance image.
"Look at this."
Mara frowned. "What am I seeing?"
"Two weeks ago," Rowan explained, "a young woman was found dead in New Haven. Same spiral-triangle symbol carved into a tree nearby. Same ritualistic staging."
Mara's breath caught.
"And get this," Rowan continued, "the victim's mother? She's a well-known community leader. Advocate for missing children."
Mara's eyes widened.
"Claire Holloway's not unique," she whispered. "She's a pattern."
Rowan nodded grimly. "And her mother—the first victim in Durnville—isn't a victim at all. She's the leader of the entire network."
Mara stared at him.
"Wait," she said slowly. "You mean… the woman who was killed at the start? Lila's mother?"
"Exactly."
A cold weight settled in Mara's chest.
"She orchestrated everything," Rowan said. "Used her daughter's death as a signal, a trigger."
Mara's hands clenched into fists.
"But why? What's the point?"
Rowan's voice dropped.
"To control pain. To harvest grief. To cleanse their own sins."
Mara's eyes burned with fury and fear.
"And people are still out there. Watching. Waiting."
Rowan nodded.
"We stopped the crucible, but the web is still alive."
Mara's phone buzzed.
A message appeared:
You can't hide.
We're always watching.
She looked up at Rowan.
"We have to find them all."
He reached for his coat.
"Then let's start hunting."
The shadows outside the café shifted.
A figure watched from the rain.
And smiled beneath a cracked porcelain mask.