Whispers in the storm

Back at the lighthouse, Eleanor bolted the door and turned to Nathaniel, who was slumped against the wall, his chest heaving.

"You have to tell me everything," she demanded, her voice firm. "No more half-truths, no more secrets. Who are these people? Why are they after you?"

Nathaniel's face was pale, his eyes filled with regret. "They're part of an organization—people my family was involved with for generations. Powerful, dangerous people who deal in secrets and lies. My parents tried to leave, to expose them, but..." His voice faltered. "They were killed for it. I was supposed to die too, but I escaped. They've been hunting me ever since."

Eleanor's mind raced, piecing together fragments of his story. "And my great-uncle? Was he involved?"

Nathaniel hesitated, then nodded. "He was the one who helped me escape. He hid me here, at the lighthouse, before they got to him too."

Eleanor felt a surge of anger and determination. "Then we're going to finish what your parents started. We're going to expose them."

Nathaniel's hand tightened around hers. "Eleanor, if we do this, they won't stop until we're dead."

"Then we'd better make it count," she said, her voice steely.

As the storm raged outside, Eleanor and Nathaniel prepared for the battle ahead, knowing that the answers they sought might come at the ultimate price. But together, they would face the darkness, determined to uncover the truth—even if it meant losing everything.