Whispers in the bayou... ░▒░ Down at the cracked counter of the tired coffee shack, the tall man with a crooked smile and the dark-haired woman with sharp eyes traded barbs over steaming cups—his slow, mocking nod toward the restless blond in the background said more than words. The tension hung thick, punctuated by bitter laughter and the scent of burnt grounds, shadows stretching like secrets across the cracked tile floor. ░▒
▒░ But that wasn’t the only buzz drifting through town. Near the docks, whispers crawl faster than the fog, speaking of flickering lights in the bayou and vanished souls carried off by unseen hands—a slow, terrible pattern breaking open after a week of silence, leaving even the Syndicate’s sharpest tongues uneasy. ░▒
░▒░ Deputy Broussard’s eyes narrowed behind tired lids when the tale reached him—his usual smirk gone, replaced by a cold, knowing glance toward the door. ░▒
✨ https://news.backwaters.sl
