After Alex disappeared into the depths of the dark basement corridor, Dean, Sam, Emmet, and the Ghostfacers remained in the Collingwood Hospital lobby. Everyone was waiting for his return.

Before leaving, Alex had warned them: the ghosts might become far more aggressive the moment he started hunting Dr. Fridkin. And at first, nothing happened.

Dean, Emmet, and Sam discussed what they had seen. The very fact that Fridkin was possessed by the Darkness explained a lot — that was how he managed to twist the hospital, creating an alternate dimension, trapping all the ghosts inside, and continuing endless experiments on the patients.

From Alex’s words, Sam realized that the essence of Darkness had been seeping into the world for years; people simply hadn’t noticed, and the Federal Bureau of Control carefully covered up the evidence.

And the conclusion became obvious: because Sam wanted to free his brother from the Mark of Cain, the Darkness gained freedom, and now all the places where it had seeped for decades were “waking up,” becoming much more dangerous.

Sam shared his thoughts. Dean and Emmet only nodded darkly. Emmet kept silent about the most important thing: Amara wasn’t evil at all. But saying that aloud would ruin Alex’s plan — and he trusted him.

Dean merely sighed and said that since they were the ones who caused this mess, they were the ones who had to deal with it, and that they’d have to handle every place the Darkness had touched. But the conversation abruptly ended. A loud, heavy thud echoed from the direction of the stairs.

Dean, Emmet, and Sam instantly grabbed their shotguns. The Ghostfacers all scrambled into the farthest safe corner, barely breathing. Something heavy tumbled down the stairs from the second floor. The trio of hunters cautiously approached the staircase and exchanged looks.

Without stepping over the line of protective symbols that turned the lobby into the only safe zone, Dean leaned over the railing. He saw it… the same wheelchair that had been chasing him and Alex from the very beginning of their wandering through the dark hallways. Sam and Emmet noticed how Dean’s face twisted in irritation and fury.

“What is it, Dean?” Sam asked.

“A damn wheelchair,” Dean gritted out. “It just won’t leave us alone.”

He was about to turn away when something dripped onto his shoulder. Dean looked down. A dark, thick drop spread across the fabric. He touched it with his fingers. Blood. Slowly, he lifted his head — and froze.

Emmet and Sam came closer — and also froze in place.

Dozens of ghostly patients stared down at them from the upper landing. Their eye sockets were empty, but black blood streamed from them. Their faces were distorted, smeared as if by some invisible hand. And all of them were looking down at the hunters.

“Guys… back up slowly,” Dean whispered, trying not to make a sudden move. “I really don’t like the way they’re staring at us.”

“Not just you,” Emmet whispered back. “Looks like this is what Alex meant… the ghosts getting more aggressive.”

“Just stay quiet and move back,” Sam murmured. “And let’s hope the protective seals can handle this many.”

They carefully descended the stairs and had almost sighed with relief when a sharp, piercing scream came from Maggie. Pale as chalk, she was pointing with a trembling finger toward one of the hallways. Everyone turned toward her.

Dozens of pale, bloody hands were sticking out of the walls, clawing at everything — the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Bloody nails left ragged marks across the old tiles. From the left came heavy, furious banging — doors slammed into the walls over and over, as if someone was desperately trying to break through. Dean, Emmet, and Sam raised their weapons. Ghosts were everywhere, ready to rush forward at any moment.

“Does any of you know how to handle a shotgun?” Sam asked, not taking his eyes off the corridor filled with bloody hands.

“Yes, I do,” Chris said, stepping forward. “I… had some experience with that.”

“Then take it,” Sam said, placing Alex’s shotgun into his hands. “Shoot anyone who comes close to the protective markings. We just need to hold out until Alex gets back.”

Chris gripped the shotgun tighter and scanned the dark corridor, raising the barrel. And then the first shot rang out — Dean fired at a patient ghost who had come too close to the protective symbols.

Ed and Harry, being themselves and not grasping the danger at all, immediately rushed at Spruce, demanding he film everything and not stop the camera for even a second.

But what surprised everyone wasn’t that — it was the fact that the ghost didn’t vanish like usual, but instead began writhing on the floor, convulsing in unbearable pain. Sam, Emmet, and Dean were prepared for this — but the Ghostfacers had no idea.

Before, whenever they encountered ghosts, they had seen them simply dissolve after being hit with salt. Never — never — had ghosts thrashed on the ground in convulsions.

“Why didn’t it disappear and just… got knocked back by the shot?” Spruce asked, his hands trembling as he pointed the camera at the twitching figure.

“We’re in their world now,” Dean said, reloading the shotgun and firing at the next ghost. “Here they’re much more… alive.”

After the first spirit dared to approach the protective sigils, the ghosts began appearing one after another. There were more and more of them. All of them wore hospital gowns, their faces twisted and distorted beyond recognition, and from their empty eye sockets, blood streamed down.

The more observant members of the group immediately noticed: among these ghosts were those who had once gone missing in this hospital. And just like Alex had said, all these people had become “patients” who went through Dr. Friedkin’s special treatment.

While the others were fighting off the endless stream of ghosts, Alex was racing through the dark basement corridor. Ghosts lunged at him one after another, but he dispatched them instantly — a couple of swings of his katana were enough to shred any obstacle trying to slow him down.

He didn’t know how long he had been running, but he knew what he was looking for. He needed one particular door — a simple iron door leading to Dr. Friedkin’s personal operating room. That was where the doctor had performed his monstrous experiments. Continuing forward, Alex suddenly stopped. He listened.

The next second, the sound of an elevator opening echoed down the corridor. Turning his head, he saw a bright rectangle of light at the end of the hallway, cast by the open elevator doors.

“You want me to leave?” Alex said lazily, gazing at the elevator. “But you know, Dr. Friedkin… I’m not going anywhere. So stop hiding already. Let’s finish this. I still have school today.”

In response, a strange, distorted melody began playing from the elevator — as if someone had put on an old vinyl record that kept skipping. The elevator started to shake, creaking as if the cable would snap at any second and send the cabin crashing down.

Alex glanced away for a moment — and immediately heard a loud bang, followed by the heavy slam of metal hitting concrete. He didn’t even need to look to understand: the elevator had been deliberately dropped. Friedkin was trying to force him out. Him alone.

But Alex knew: Friedkin wouldn’t let the others leave. And Alex himself could escape at any moment — take everyone with him and bring this whole place crashing down into oblivion. Lighting a cigarette, he took a deep drag, thinking through his next steps. He had already realized that Dr. Friedkin had somehow made contact with the Darkness that seeped into the world.

And the more Alex thought, the clearer it became — the leaks of Darkness couldn’t have been just a side effect. This wasn’t Amara’s mistake. It was Chuck’s plan. Chuck needed all of Amara’s power — both darkness and light.

The cage where Amara was being held… wasn’t just imprisoning her. It was slowly draining her power, in a way subtle enough that she wouldn’t notice.

From the very beginning, the situation with the Dark Presence in Bright Falls had seemed suspicious to Alex… but back then, he couldn’t figure out what exactly felt wrong.

Now, seeing Friedkin infected by the Darkness, the puzzle finally started coming together.

Lost in thought, he was pulled back to reality by a faint click — behind him, a door slowly opened with a long metallic creak. Alex turned. Before him, the very door he had been searching for swung open.

“Alright,” he exhaled, flicking the cigarette butt aside. “First — Dr. Friedkin. And then… I’ll talk to Amara.”

Alex had realized long ago: the best way to get answers was to speak with Amara directly. And to summon her again, he needed someone possessed by the Darkness — a conduit through which he could contact the goddess and invite her for a conversation.

Drawing his katana, Alex stepped through the open door. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a dim, flickering light struck his face. The walls were battered, rusted pipes ran along the ceiling, and the air reeked of old dampness.

Looking around, Alex saw only old gurneys — patients had been brought here so that Dr. Friedkin could continue his monstrous experiments.

Moving deeper into the room, Alex lazily scanned the space and soon noticed a simple iron table piled high with folders.

Approaching, he saw medical charts for numerous patients, on whom Friedkin had conducted his experiments. Quickly flipping through the documents, Alex picked up the stack — among the papers was the doctor’s personal journal.

Without hesitation, he tossed everything into his shadow, and the folders began sinking into it as if into murky water. Alex never passed by items that could enrich his eerie collection of artifacts from cursed places.

Turning away, he moved on. On the walls hung photographs — frozen moments of autopsies Friedkin had performed on people. Each was labeled with the purpose of the respective “study.”

Alex just grimaced and continued down the corridor, peeking into rooms that resembled a mix of operating theaters and torture chambers.

After a few minutes, he arrived at another room. Here stood cabinets and drawers, crammed with books to the top. In the center of the floor was a ritual circle marked with ancient symbols, and in its middle lay a human skull; a little further away — a black book.

Curious, Alex crouched down to examine the symbols. Once he deciphered them, he simply shook his head — the circle had been designed to trap ghosts, a kind of gigantic snare.

Rising, he approached the book. The title had long since faded, and the pages were yellowed and brittle. Flipping through it quickly, Alex understood: it contained rituals, sacrifices, curses, and, among them, a ritual to summon a dark entity that granted power in exchange for souls.

And this was exactly the ritual Dr. Friedkin had used.

Alex placed the book in his inventory and headed out. He had already stayed too long, and the fact that Friedkin had been performing rituals no longer surprised anyone.

Leaving the room, he heard a quiet, old melody — barely audible, as if playing from deep within the corridor.

Following the sound, he soon came upon another iron door, slightly ajar. Pushing it open with the sheath, he stepped inside.

The room was lit by a single lamp flickering above an operating table. Dr. Friedkin stood over another patient, and on either side of him, two ghostly nurses were frozen in place.

They didn’t even have time to react.

Alex stepped forward, instantly closing the distance. Drawing his katana, he decapitated the ghostly nurses with two swift strikes.

Sheathing his blade, he grabbed the doctor by the neck and punched him in the chest. His hand passed through the ghostly body, and Alex seized the very essence of Friedkin’s existence — the core imbued with Darkness.

Pulling his hand back, he held in his palm a dark sphere of energy from which thick black mist oozed. Dr. Friedkin turned to gray ash and crumbled. Ignoring the remains, Alex stared at the dark sphere and felt his suspicions confirmed.

Chuck had indeed used Amara’s cage not merely as a prison — it was siphoning her power, drop by drop, so that the goddess herself wouldn’t notice. At this realization, Alex just shook his head. Now he knew what to do: go through all the places where the Darkness had “leaked,” eliminate those who exploited that power — and return the energy to its rightful owner.

There was no denying it: Chuck’s plan was brilliant. He weakened Amara gradually, making her vulnerable, so that at the right moment he could absorb her completely. Smiling, Alex continued his reasoning, but suddenly the doors behind him creaked open.

Amara stood in the doorway — still in that black dress, and behind her, a swirling dark smoke thickened, filling the dimly lit operating room.

“And why did you call me again, Alex?” she asked lazily as she stepped inside. “And to such a filthy place… At least last time it was pleasant.”

“Sorry. It’s just… something happened here. Want to hear about it?” Alex smiled.

“I’ll listen. Besides, I can clearly feel my power… in your hands,” Amara said, raising an eyebrow and pointing at the dark sphere.

“Let’s start from the beginning. I found out something about what Chuck did. This sphere was inside Dr. Friedkin, whom I just killed. And this power belongs to you,” Alex said, tossing the sphere to Amara.

The moment the sphere touched Amara’s palms, the dark energy immediately flowed into her, as if returning home. Feeling that even a small but tangible portion of her power had returned, Amara raised an eyebrow and gave Alex a questioning look — clearly wanting details.

Alex lit a cigarette and began explaining his conclusions — that Chuck hadn’t just imprisoned her in the cage for millions of years, but had used it from the very start as a siphon, slowly draining her power.

At first, Amara didn’t immediately understand where he was going. But when Alex began giving examples and explaining the structure of the cage, she grasped the whole picture. It wasn’t a “leak of power,” as he had initially thought. It was Chuck’s carefully devised plan — the gradual exhaustion of the Goddess of Darkness.

After listening to the long explanation, Amara frowned even more. For a moment, it seemed as though she was about to explode with anger again.

But she took a deep breath and calmed herself. Sooner or later, Chuck would meet his end in his own pathetic little show — and she knew it.

“So what’s your plan?” Amara asked, still wearing a dark expression. “I can’t handle this myself. The moment I show up in one of those places, Chuck will immediately realize I figured something out.”

“We stick to the same script,” Alex said, shaking ash onto the floor. “You keep playing the offended sister who wants to destroy everything your brother created. And I’ll hang around the Winchesters pretending to be a hunter. I’ll guide them to places where your ‘power supposedly leaked into the world’ and clean up the mess together with them.”

He smirked slightly.

“I already fed Dean and Sam a pile of nonsense about how those places became active after you were freed. They’re starting to believe more and more that you’re the villain. Exactly what Chuck wants. We clean up the spots holding fragments of your power, and I return them to you. But you’ll have to make a couple of moves on your side too.”

“And what do I need to do?” Amara calmly crossed her arms. “Pretend to be a villain longer? Kill a few people? Cause a disaster?”

“No-no-no,” Alex waved his hand. “You need to act subtle. Very subtle.”

He raised a finger.

“You still have a connection with Dean. And you need to visit him in his dreams.”

Amara raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.

“Make him doubt that you’re evil. Hint that the real villain is your brother. That he created all the monsters, demons, and this whole mess. Speak carefully, in small pieces, planting doubt but not answers. Dean needs to get confused enough to stop understanding who’s right.”

Alex snapped his fingers.

“And once Chuck’s favorite actor starts doubting, Chuck will jump in to fix the situation. Start interfering even more actively. And that’s when he’ll overplay it — start pinning the blame on you too aggressively. That’s what we want.”

“So while you’re ruining Chuck’s plans involving my power, I’ll ruin his plan involving Dean?” Amara clarified. “But why did he decide to use Dean against me in the first place?”

“Because Chuck wants to repeat his old trick,” Alex said, crushing his cigarette against the metal table. “He’s already betrayed you once and locked you away. He wants to do it again. The Mark of Cain — which Dean ended up carrying — Chuck didn’t plant it by accident.”

Amara raised her eyebrow again, realizing that even Dean becoming the bearer of the Mark of Cain was Chuck’s fault too.

“It’s incredibly easy to bind two beings together. Same scenario as before: you trust Dean, then Chuck whispers a few pretty lies about you wanting to destroy everything — and Dean bites the hook.”

Alex spread his hands.

“But in our plan, you take the initiative. You slowly hint to him who the real villain is.”

Amara exhaled tiredly.

“I’ll say it again: I don’t like the idea of using Dean. But I understand it’s necessary.”

“I don’t like it either,” Alex shrugged. “Dean’s a great guy. We’ve got a lot in common. But you know his gift — ruining everything at the worst possible moment.”

Amara let out a quiet huff.

“Oh, I know that very well. But despite everything, he handled every problem that came his way. And… I like how he puts family first. That might be his best trait.”

She turned toward the exit:

“Alright. I’m leaving. My vessel is almost ready, and I’ll be able to get away from Crowley and see the world with my own eyes.”

“Hold up,” Alex said, opening his inventory. “Take some ice cream.”

He handed her a box.

“Since I have to make you look like a villain… I feel awful about it. So the ice cream is… well, compensation.”

Amara looked at Alex’s twisted face, as if he had just eaten a lemon, and couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, glancing at the box of ice cream in his hands. Still, she wanted to try it. Last time, she had drunk surprisingly delicious tea, eaten cookies… and she was sure that the ice cream Alex offered would be far better than the cheap sweets Crowley had treated her to through her physical vessel.

Smiling slightly, Amara carefully took the box of ice cream, then stepped into the swirling darkness beyond the open doors. The iron gates slammed shut behind her with a dull thud.

When the darkness fully swallowed Amara, Alex ran his hand over his chin, pondering whether to continue this charade in which Amara played the role of the villain.

As he emerged into the corridor, he felt Zhang Ya rising from his own shadow. She looked at her husband with a completely empty, judging gaze — so expressive that words weren’t needed: “You’re an idiot” was written all over her face.

Alex met that look with stoic calm, simply smiling and nodding.

Zhang Ya responded with an even emptier gaze — if that was even possible — clearly annoyed that she also had to participate in this circus.

A second later, the Red Door opened behind her. Before Alex could say anything, a powerful torrent of blood surged out, sweeping him off his feet and carrying him down the corridor.

Meanwhile, in the main lobby, Emmet, Sam, and Dean finally stopped shooting at the patient ghosts — they had suddenly vanished, and all ghostly activity ceased. The doors leading to the dark basement were already locked when the phantoms made their last attempt to break through the protective symbols.

Spent shells from the shotgun littered the floor, and all three sat heavily, catching their breath — the events of the last few minutes had taken a lot out of them. But they didn’t get a moment to rest: the hospital suddenly began to shake, as if an earthquake had started.

The enormous stairwell window, beyond which was nothing but utter darkness, cracked in a web of fractures. The characteristic sound of breaking glass grew louder and louder.

All of them turned their heads to the window at the same time — the cracks were multiplying before their eyes.

“Everyone, move!” Sam shouted, diving behind a column.

The next moment, the stained glass exploded. A massive torrent of blood burst through the hole, crashing into the hall and sweeping everything in its path. People ducked behind columns, trying to understand what was happening and why a real river of blood had suddenly appeared.

When the flow subsided, everyone cautiously peered out from their cover — and saw Alex lying in the middle of the hall, completely drenched in blood.

Sam, Dean, and Emmet instantly rushed to him. Sam checked his pulse and exhaled with relief.

Emmet looked at Alex with the expression: “What the hell have you done this time?” — trying to understand the nature of the unfolding chaos.

Dean looked as if he were trying to piece his brain back into his skull.

The Ghostfacers anxiously huddled nearby. Chris and Ashley looked particularly pale — they were sure Alex had gotten into trouble because of them.

Alex himself lay with his eyes closed, fully aware that yes — he had definitely overdone it. And he understood even better why Zhang Ya had looked at him like the biggest idiot in existence just a moment ago. Right now, that was exactly how he felt.

When Dean and Sam started bringing him back to his senses, he slowly opened his eyes — just the way someone would after surviving a nightmare.

“Hey, you good? What the hell happened in there?” Dean asked, supporting him by the shoulders.

“If you don’t count the fact that I spent way too long running down a dark corridor and killed a crazy doctor…” Alex rasped as he got up with Dean’s help. “Your girlfriend attacked me, Dean.”

Sam leaned in closer and spoke quietly, so only Alex, Dean, and Emmet could hear:

“You saw Amara?”

Alex nodded and lowered his voice to a whisper as he explained what had happened after he killed Dr. Friedkin: how Amara appeared — and how she said she sensed Dean’s presence in this place.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look; they needed to know what Amara looked like now — whether her physical vessel had already matured or not. Alex had to lie again. He began weaving another story with practiced finesse: he described her appearance in a way that sounded believable, but added that she looked… different. As if she wasn’t fully material. Almost like a ghost, not a real person.

Sam and Dean picked up on the implied meaning: Amara could appear only in places where her power had seeped into the world, while her physical form was still incomplete. Alex confirmed this with a confident nod. The brothers wanted to know why Amara was doing all of this in the first place.

Alex shook his head, pretending to be genuinely confused.

“She didn’t want to kill me only because I’m Dean’s friend. She doesn’t want to hurt him.”

Dean frowned, clearly not understanding why Amara treated him so… selectively.

Alex just spread his hands, as if saying he had no idea either.

“And still, I managed to figure something out,” he whispered so only Dean, Sam, and Emmet could hear.

“What exactly? Other than that Amara isn’t planning to hurt Dean yet?” Sam clarified, frowning slightly.

“There are lots of places like this one, where the Darkness leaked into reality. And… it’s part of Amara’s plan. Otherwise she wouldn’t have appeared here. She sensed Dean because this place is almost like her domain. But why she’s doing all this — I don’t know. Until her physical vessel matures, she can’t act directly,” Alex said, confidently building the lie as he went.

“So there are many such places…” Sam repeated, still frowning. “And what are we supposed to do with them?”

“What do you think? We clean them up,” Dean said. “We started it — we finish it. Whatever Amara’s planning, we’re stopping it.”

“Alright… we’ll figure it out later,” Alex sighed, wiping the remaining blood from his face. “For now, we need to get out of here. I need a shower… and maybe a few hugs. We reach the Red Door — and we’re free.”

Sam, Dean, and Emmet exchanged glances and nodded. Calling out to the Ghostfacers, the whole group moved out to search. After the ghost of Dr. Friedkin was destroyed, the hallways no longer shifted, making the path much easier. Finally, they found it — a simple red door tightly wrapped in chains.

Alex and Emmet quickly tore the chains off while the others watched carefully. When the last chain fell to the floor, Alex pushed the door open — and behind it was the familiar lobby of Collingwood Hospital.

“What are you standing around for? Move it, get through,” Alex said, waving them forward.

“We didn’t grab the equipment…” Harry muttered, clearly unwilling to leave without the recorded footage.

“Quit whining like a girl. Get in there, or I’ll boot you through myself,” Dean barked and gave Harry a light kick in the back, directing him toward the door.

Harry and Ed grumbled like offended schoolkids as they squeezed through the Red Door. When Chris walked by, Alex couldn’t resist kicking him too — for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong and dragging everyone into this nightmare.

Ashley, seeing that, practically slipped through the doorway just to avoid becoming the next target of the “magic boot.”

When all the Ghostfacers had crossed over, it was time for Alex, Emmet, Sam, and Dean.

Emmet stepped through first. Sam followed. Dean and Alex exited last.

Once they found themselves in the normal hospital lobby again, they saw sunlight streaming through the slightly open doors leading outside. The Ghostfacers shouted something excited and rushed out… but the moment they crossed the threshold, all six of them froze in place.

Alex, Dean, Sam, and Emmet stepped out after them — and also stopped.

Parked in front of the entrance were armored vehicles marked with the emblem of the Federal Bureau of Control. Armed agents stood near them, each one looking like an illustration from a training manual. And at the front stood a woman with a cold, stone-like expression. Alex and Emmet recognized her instantly.

Elena Flores. Kirana Estevez’s supervisor. The very person no one ever wanted to deal with. And now she had personally come here.

Her gaze slid over the Ghostfacers… then landed on Alex, Emmet, Sam, and Dean.

And if her face had looked stern before — now it looked downright grim.

Elena gave a short command, and the agents moved in toward the Ghostfacers — questioning them, pulling them aside, explaining what could be said and what should never be spoken aloud, even in a dream.

“I don’t know who that lady is,” Dean muttered, not taking his eyes off Elena, “but I really don’t like the way she’s looking at us.”

“That’s Elena Flores,” Alex explained quietly. “She’s from the FBC. Most likely the Bureau picked up the spike in anomalous activity and rushed here.”

“You know her?” Sam asked, turning to Alex.

“Personally? No. But Emmet and I had to work with her subordinates in Bright Falls. We met her when she came to collect Alan Wake for transport to the Bureau.”

“Then why is she looking at us like she’s about to shoot us?” Dean asked, still unsure why they had earned such a murderous glare.

Alex slowly turned his head toward Dean and stared at him with a hollow, scorched expression.

“Dean. Think about what you two have done. The apocalypse you triggered because of your own stupidity alone is reason enough to shoot both of you. And then you went and released the Darkness. You really think someone’s gonna pat you on the head for that? No… for stuff like that, people usually end up with a brand-new hole in their backside.”

Dean had already opened his mouth to argue, but at that very moment realized: he had no arguments. Everything they had done over the past few years would be painful to recall. Too many mistakes. Too many times they had screwed everything up — even if they later fixed the consequences. He only let out a heavy sigh.

While they were debating, Elena approached with a confident, almost predatory stride. Her face was cold, frozen like stone. She climbed the steps, and her gaze immediately fell on Alex — covered in blood, tired, but standing tall.

She had already read the reports on Kiran Estevez — the few data they managed to gather about Alexander. It was enough to understand: he was not human in the usual sense. An anomaly, a walking rupture. Even the Bureau director herself, Jesse Faden, had shown interest in him — and that worried Elena more than anything.

Shifting her gaze to Dean, Sam, and Emmet, she quickly assessed them, as if deciding whether to detain such lawbreakers or simply throw them out.

“Alexander Voldigoad. Again with the vampire Emmet Cullen… and in the company of the Winchester brothers,” she said coldly, in a steady voice. “What brings you to this location?”

Alex folded his hands behind his back, feigning innocent virtue.

“You won’t believe it. We were going on a picnic. Then we found out a group of idiots wandered into your Bureau’s secured area. As responsible U.S. citizens, we couldn’t leave people in danger and took control of the situation. Who would have thought there were so many ghosts here? So, we had to… handle it.”

“Uh-huh, of course. Just passing by a restricted area,” Elena replied with icy sarcasm.

“Exactly,” Dean confirmed confidently. “We would have continued on to the strip club peacefully. We even brought small change.” He pulled out a stack of dollar bills.

Elena blinked slowly, like a cat whose patience had just snapped.

“I’ll pretend to believe you… Now, let’s get to the point. How did you manage the anomalous zone?”

Alex nodded.

“The entire alternate hospital was controlled by Dr. Friedkin. After his death, everything returned to normal. While trying to reach him, I stumbled upon a room where he conducted rituals and sacrifices. I assume he acquired a book describing the ritual — creating an alternate dimension through sacrifices.”

“I see. I’ll note that. Anything else in the hospital?” she asked, documenting details for her report.

Dean snorted.

“Not counting that the hospital was like a cursed maze, where you walk on the first floor and end up on the third… and that a ghostly wheelchair chased us? Nope, nothing unusual. Just normal evil ghosts and a crazy doctor.”

Elena only gave a brief nod.

“Thank you for your cooperation. Now… leave Bureau property. We are not thrilled that members of the Men of Letters order are infringing on our jurisdiction.”

Alex gave a slight bow, grinning.

“And have a good day, Miss Flores. Tell Director Faden it’s time to prepare the funds. After all, we’ve already solved two anomalous problems. Even if it’s your job, no one refuses a little reward.”

Elena’s eye twitched. She drew a deep breath, clearly suppressing the urge to strike someone. But she stayed silent — Alex was right.

They walked past her and headed toward the Impala.

“Another problem solved,” Dean said, climbing behind the wheel with a smile. “And if they pay you, buddy, don’t forget about us. We need money too.”

Alex just laughed and nodded.

The Impala’s engine roared, the speakers blasted classic rock, and the car smoothly rolled away, leaving the grounds of the cursed Collingwood Hospital behind.

Alex cast one last glance at the building, leaned back in his seat, and thought of only one thing — going home and having a proper meal.

The music thundered, the sun rose over the road, and the Impala carried them farther from the place where they had once again triumphed. Another case closed.

To be continued…

(Next up, Jesse shows up, we move to the bunker, and meet Amara again, and then the Wednesday plot. Yeah, yeah, I still remember she’s supposed to show up. As for the rest, well… Hehehe. I won’t say.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep