JAKE

I pressed my back against the cold wall of the dimly lit hallway, trying to pick out words from the muffeled voices I was hearing. I looked ahead, it was a dark dead end.

I wondered where the sound came from.

I strained my ears, trying to make sense of the conversation.

Who were they talking about?

Who were the people having a discussion with my father.

“So basically, my birthday is to celebrate the death of Samuel Reynolds, who, courtesy of my good friend here, Victor, got scrapped out from our list of problems,” an unfamiliar voice said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

My stomach dropped. Samuel Reynolds?...