Ethan Ward slumped against the ticket counter of The Haunted Haven, the rusted gear from the signal’s eye-machine cold in his hand. The morning sun filtered through the grimy windows, glinting off the gear’s etched eye symbol, but it did little to chase away the chill of his parents’ voices—The signal’s us, free us—still echoing from the chamber below. Sophie Bennett sprawled across a chair nearby, her wrench resting on her lap, flipping through her notes with a tired grin. Lydia Kane stood by the manor door, her crimson dress a stark contrast to the dusty hall, her presence steady but silent since their last task.

  “So,” Sophie said, breaking the quiet, “we’ve got a haunted gear now—add it to the ghost bingo pile. Think it’s a cog in the signal’s brain?”

  Ethan snorted, pocketing the gear beside the locket, key, badge, and Patient 0 tag. “Maybe. Whatever it is, we hurt it—broke its gaze. They’re closer.” He pulled the locket out, flipping it open—the photo glowed faintly, his parents’ faces sharp, Lydia’s younger self clearer beside them. “We’re winning.”

  “Winning’s loud,” Sophie said, nodding at the journal on the counter—his dad’s note: The signal’s alive. “Pierce was right—it’s waking up. Think he’ll crash our victory lap?”

  As if summoned, a sharp rap hit the front door. Ethan tensed, exchanging a look with Sophie, who raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered, hopping up. “Round two with the doc?”

  Ethan crossed to the door, the hum pulsing faintly from below, and yanked it open. Dr. Nathaniel Pierce stood there—dark coat pristine, graying hair neat, his cold eyes dissecting Ethan like a specimen. “Ward,” he said, voice smooth but edged. “We need to talk.”

  “Again?” Ethan leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “You’re late to the party, Pierce. We’ve been busy.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Pierce said, stepping inside uninvited, his gaze sweeping the hall—fake skeletons, creaky props—before landing on Lydia. His smirk faltered, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. “Kane. You’re free.”

  “Partially,” Lydia said, her whisper sharp, her ring glinting. “No thanks to you.”

  Pierce’s smirk returned, colder. “I warned them about you—too volatile, too reckless. They didn’t listen.”

  “Enough,” Ethan snapped, stepping between them. “What do you want, Pierce? Another lecture about the signal?”

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  Pierce turned to him, his gaze piercing. “A deal,” he said, pulling a small device from his coat—a handheld receiver, its screen flickering with static. “You’re breaking the Haven open—faster than I expected. I can help you finish it.”

  Sophie gripped her wrench, stepping closer. “Help? Last time, you said it’d eat us. What’s the catch, doc?”

  “No catch,” Pierce said, holding up the receiver. “This tracks the signal—its frequency, its core. I built the radio with your parents—tuned it to the lost. You’re close, but you’re blind. I’m not.”

  Ethan’s jaw tightened, the journal’s weight grounding him—Pierce says it’s a trap. “Why help now? You bailed when they needed you.”

  “I didn’t bail,” Pierce said, voice dropping, a crack showing. “I tried to stop them—shut it down. John was obsessed—thought he could save the lost. Mary followed him in. I stayed above, kept the signal contained. Until you started this.” He gestured at the office, the radio’s silhouette faint through the door. “It’s louder now—unstable. You’re waking it, and I can’t let it spill.”

  “Spill where?” Ethan demanded, pulling the locket out. “They’re in there—part of it. I’m getting them out.”

  Pierce’s eyes flicked to the locket, then back to Ethan. “You might. But the signal’s not just them—it’s everything it’s trapped. Break it wrong, and Hopeville drowns in it—shadows, screams, the lost. I’ve seen it start.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow, her wrench tapping her leg. “So you’re the hero now? Cute story, but why should we trust you?”

  “You shouldn’t,” Pierce said, blunt. “But you need me. That—” He nodded at the gear in Ethan’s pocket—“it’s a piece of the core. You’re close to the heart, but you’ll die without direction. I know the signal’s shape—where it holds them.”

  Ethan hesitated, the locket warm in his hand, his mom’s voice—Free us—pulling at him. “What’s your deal, then? We let you tag along?”

  “More,” Pierce said, stepping closer, his voice low. “I join you—guide you to the core. We free them—your parents, the lost—and shut it down. For good.”

  “And if we don’t?” Ethan asked, his grip tightening on the key.

  Pierce’s smirk faded. “It takes you. Then Hopeville. Then more. The Haven’s alive, Ethan—and it’s starving.”

  Lydia stepped forward, her gaze cold. “He’s not lying,” she said, her ring glinting. “I felt it—below, growing. He knows the signal. But he’ll turn on you when it suits him.”

  “Fair assessment,” Pierce said, unfazed. “But I want it dead as much as you do. Truce?”

  Ethan stared at him, then at Lydia, then Sophie, who shrugged. “Your call, boss,” she said, grinning faintly. “He’s a jerk, but he’s got a gadget. Could be useful.”

  “Fine,” Ethan said, voice hard. “You’re in—on my terms. Step out of line, and Lydia’s not the only one who’ll make you regret it.”

  Pierce nodded, pocketing the receiver. “Deal. Next move?”

  Ethan turned to the radio, its static flaring faintly. “It’ll tell us,” he said, the gear heavy in his pocket. “Get ready.”

  The static surged, sharp and sudden, the voice rasping through: “The lost signal fades. Find its end, Ethan.”

  Sophie grinned, hefting her wrench. “Round nine, doc included. Let’s roll.”

  Ethan nodded, the locket glowing, Pierce’s shadow looming beside him. The Haven was watching—and now, so was he.