WHISPERS IN THE DARK

Chapter Thirty-Seven

**CALLIE'S POV**

Days have passed since the nightmare that was Sam’s final stand. The safe house, once a place of refuge, now feels more like a temporary prison. Every corner of the house holds memories—of fear, of loss, of survival. But it’s also where I’ve started to piece myself back together.

This morning, the sun is bright, its rays cutting through the early morning fog. I watch from the window, the world outside slowly coming to life. Birds chirp, their songs a stark contrast to the silence that has settled inside me.

“Morning,” Leigh says softly, appearing at my side. Her face is still pale, and the bandage on her leg is a stark reminder of what we’ve all been through, but her smile is genuine.

“Morning,” I reply, managing a small smile of my own.

Leigh leans against the windowsill, her gaze following mine out to the garden where Mal and Cole are talking. There’s an unspoken heaviness between them, a bond forged in the fires of what we’ve survived. It’s comforting to see them together, to see that, like me, they’re trying to move forward.

“How are you holding up?” Leigh asks, her voice gentle.

I shrug, not sure how to put my feelings into words. “Some days are better than others,” I admit. “I keep telling myself it’s over, that Sam can’t hurt us anymore, but…”

“But it doesn’t feel like it’s really over,” Leigh finishes for me.

I nod, grateful that she understands. “It’s like a shadow that follows me everywhere. Even when I’m not thinking about it, it’s there, just beneath the surface.”

Leigh reaches out, placing a hand on mine. “You’re not alone, Callie. We’re all carrying this with us, in our own way. But we’re here for each other, and that’s what’s going to get us through.”

Her words are a balm to my soul, soothing some of the raw edges that still linger. “Thank you,” I whisper, squeezing her hand.

Before she can respond, the door to the safe house creaks open, and Dom walks in, his expression as grim as ever. His presence, usually commanding and full of certainty, seems to have dimmed since that night. The weight of leadership in the face of such trauma is a heavy one, and it shows in every line on his face.

“Morning,” he says, nodding to both of us.

“Morning,” Leigh and I echo in unison.

Dom glances out the window at Mal and Cole, then back to us. “We’ve got to talk,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “About what happens next.”

Leigh and I exchange a look before following Dom into the living room, where Cole and Mal are already seated. Ryan is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dark with the same shadows that haunt us all.

Dom takes a seat at the head of the room, looking each of us in the eye before he speaks. “We’ve survived something that no one should have to go through. But survival is just the beginning. We need to decide how to move forward, how to rebuild.”

“Rebuild what?” Ryan asks, his voice sharper than usual. “Our lives? Our sense of safety? Sam destroyed so much more than that, Dom.”

Dom meets his gaze, unflinching. “I know. But we can’t let him destroy us. We have a chance to take back what’s ours, to reclaim our lives, our futures.”

“But how?” I ask, my voice small. “How do we even start?”

“By facing what happened, together,” Mal says, his voice steady, though I can see the strain in his eyes. “We can’t run from this, Callie. We have to confront it, piece by piece.”

Dom nods. “Mal’s right. We have to start by talking about what happened. What we lost. What we learned. And then we have to decide what comes next—for each of us.”

There’s a silence that falls over the room, heavy and uncomfortable. None of us want to relive those moments, but we all know it’s necessary. If we’re going to move forward, we have to face the past head-on.

“I’ll start,” Leigh says, her voice steady despite the tremor I see in her hands. “What Sam did… it broke something in me. I won’t lie about that. But it also made me realize how much I have to fight for. How much I have to live for. And I’m not going to let his memory control me. I’m going to take back my life, one step at a time.”

Her words are a spark, igniting something in all of us. We take turns, each sharing our pain, our fears, our hopes for the future. There are tears, raw and unfiltered, but there’s also a sense of catharsis, of a burden slowly being lifted from our shoulders.

When it’s my turn, I take a deep breath, the room silent around me. “Sam took so much from me—from all of us. But he didn’t take everything. I’m still here. We’re still here. And I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to live. I want to find joy again, even if it’s hard. I want to rebuild.”

As the words leave my mouth, I feel a small sense of release, like a door opening in my mind, letting in a sliver of light. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Dom looks around the room, his eyes filled with a rare softness. “We’re going to make it,” he says, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “It won’t be easy, but we’ll do it together.”

The meeting ends with a sense of solidarity, a shared understanding that we’re not in this alone. We’re a team—a family, even. And families stick together, no matter how dark things get.

As the others start to disperse, I linger behind, my thoughts still swirling. Mal stays too, his gaze fixed on me. There’s something in his eyes, something I can’t quite read.

“Callie,” he says, his voice gentle, “can we talk?”

I nod, following him out onto the back porch. The morning air is crisp, the sunlight warm on my skin. We stand there for a moment, the silence between us comfortable, but heavy with unspoken words.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” Mal begins, his eyes focused on the horizon. “About wanting to find joy again, to rebuild. I want that too, more than anything.”

“But?” I prompt, sensing there’s more.

“But I’m scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that no matter how hard we try, the ghosts of what happened will follow us. That we’ll never truly be free.”

His honesty is like a mirror, reflecting my own fears back at me. “I’m scared too,” I confess. “But maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s enough that we’re willing to try.”

Mal turns to look at me, his eyes searching mine. “You’re right,” he says after a moment. “We have to try. For each other. For ourselves.”

I reach out, taking his hand in mine. “We’ll figure it out, Mal. One day at a time.”

He squeezes my hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “One day at a time,” he echoes.

We stand there, hand in hand, as the sun rises higher in the sky. The world is still turning, still moving forward, and so are we. It’s not going to be easy. There will be setbacks, moments of doubt, of fear. But as long as we have each other, I believe we can make it.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll find a way to heal. To rebuild. To live again.