Chapter fifty seven
Dion
Blackwater Falls looked like the edge of the world at night. Rain crashed down the cliffs hard enough to blur everything silver and white while water thundered into the river below with enough force to shake the ground beneath our boots.
The whole place felt wrong. Too isolated, too loud.
Perfect for hiding things. I killed the engine and stepped out into mud immediately, the cold rain soaking through my jacket within seconds.
Across the clearing, Deck was already unloading flashlights and bolt cutters from the back of his truck while Roxy stood near the cliff edge staring at the waterfall like she was trying to solve a puzzle nobody else could see.
Riven hadn’t arrived yet. Honestly? That was a good thing. The guy looked one bad sentence away from committing arson lately.
“You sure this is the place?” Deck asked over the roar of the falls.
“No,” Roxy answered immediately.
“But it fits.”
Helpful. I shoved my hands into my pockets and looked around the tree line carefully. The maintenance road leading here was half-rotted and overgrown. No public signs. No marked trails. Nobody came out here anymore except maybe. addicts or idiots looking to die dramatically in the woods.
Still… something felt off. Not abandoned. Maintained. Subtly. I noticed it first near the gravel shoulder beside the cliffs. Fresh tire tracks.
“Yo!” Deck turned immediately. I pointed downward. Three separate sets. Heavy vehicles; recent enough rain hadn’t washed them away yet. Roxy crouched beside the tracks instantly.
“These aren’t civilian tires.”
“How can you tell?”
“The tread depth.” She glanced up.
“Transport vehicles.” My stomach tightened slightly. Not theories anymore then. This shit was real. Deck scanned the tree line again.
“You think they’re still using this place?”
Before either of us answered, headlights cut through the rain behind us.
Riven. Of course he drove here like a fucking psychopath.
His motorcycle skidded across the wet gravel before coming to a hard stop near the trucks.
He pulled the helmet off immediately and stalked toward us already soaked from the storm.
One look at his face told me Shane failed. Badly. His eyes looked hollow. Wild and too bright. The kind of look people got before they did something irreversible. Roxy noticed too.
“You okay?” Riven laughed once. It wasn’t a good sound.
“No.” Then his attention snapped toward the waterfall instantly.
“Talk.” Deck pointed toward the tracks.
“Recent activity.” Riven crouched beside them silently. Rain dripped from his hair across his jaw while he studied the mud like he was looking for a reason to kill somebody. Maybe he was.
“Three vehicles.”
“You can tell that?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He stood again immediately.
“One heavier than the others.” Transport maybe, but nobody said it out loud. Didn’t need to. Roxy moved closer toward the cliff edge again, flashlight cutting through the rain.
“The tunnel entrance has to be hidden somewhere behind the water.” I looked toward the falls skeptically.
“You got climbing gear I don’t know about?”
“No.”
“Great plan then.” She ignored me. Classic. Riven walked straight toward the cliffside without hesitation. Deck immediately grabbed his shoulder.
“Whoa, hold up.” Riven jerked away instantly.
“Don’t touch me.”
The warning in his voice made even Deck step back slightly.
Christ, the guy was barely holding himself together now.
Riven approached the waterfall's edge carefully while rain soaked through his black hoodie.
For a second, all I could hear was the roar of water smashing against rock below.
Then he stopped suddenly. His flashlight beam tilted downward.
“There.”
We moved beside him immediately. Half-hidden beneath the waterfall spray sat a narrow metal rail partially embedded into the cliffside rock. Old train tracks. Holy shit. Roxy crouched lower, shining her flashlight farther beneath the falls.
“It goes behind the water.” My pulse kicked hard. Because now we knew for certain. The tunnels were real. Deck looked toward Riven.
“We call the others first.”
“No.” Of course not. Riven stepped directly onto the slick cliff ledge.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered.
“You trying to die?”
“Move.”
The rain made everything dangerous immediately. One wrong step and the river below would tear somebody apart against the rocks. Still, Riven kept moving. Obsessive. Reckless. Desperate.
I swore under my breath before following after him anyway because apparently I’d decided babysitting suicidal lunatics was part of my personality now. Water sprayed violently across us the closer we got. The roar became deafening. Then suddenly the cliff opened.
Hidden behind the waterfall sat a massive hollowed-out rock passage carved directly into the mountain.
Rail tracks disappeared into darkness, and beside the tunnel entrance stood a rusted metal gate hanging half-open.
Not abandoned, but used. Fresh scrape marks cut through the rust near the hinges.
This was recent. Roxy’s face went slightly pale.
“Oh, my God.”
Deck swept his flashlight deeper into the tunnel. The tracks continued underground far beyond visibility. And painted onto the rock wall beside them sat two faded symbols. A Greek pillar with an olive branch wrapped around it. And beneath it, a long black staff split into two sharpened prongs.
Rainwater dripped slowly down the markings like blood. Nobody spoke. Because suddenly this wasn’t a conspiracy anymore. This was infrastructure. Ancient. Organized. Real.
Riven stared into the darkness of the tunnel without blinking. Every muscle in his body looked tight enough to snap. Then he started walking inside. Deck grabbed his arm immediately.
“Absolutely not.” Riven yanked free violently.
“She’s in there.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.”
The certainty in his voice made my stomach twist. Because he genuinely believed it. Not hoped. Believed. Roxy stepped closer toward the entrance carefully.
“Something’s wrong.” I frowned.
“What?” She pointed her flashlight downward.
Fresh blood spotted the tracks just inside the tunnel. Tiny drops, leading inward. The entire group went still. Then somewhere deep beneath the mountain, a train horn echoed through the darkness.