“Tom, I’ve just been told to—” I began, but he cut me off.
“You’re playing into his game,” he hissed. “He wanted us to think we’re powerless.”
He pulled a battered notebook from his bag, its edges frayed, pages yellowed.
“I’ve been going through Silas’s journals,” he said, flipping to a cramped entry. “There are references to a cabin, a map—something he never told anyone about.”
I stared at the crumpled paper, feeling the sudden surge of betrayal and hope.