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Find it.
The seam.
Not obvious.
Not unless you’re looking.
“Help me,” I say.
Briggs is there instantly.
We pry the board loose.
Slow.
Careful.
No noise.
No rush.
Because this?
This matters.
The wood lifts.
And beneath it—
Dark space.
Hidden.
Deliberate.
My pulse kicks.
I reach in.
Pull something out.
Metal.
Cold.
Weathered.
A box.
Not new.
Not obvious.
Not digital.
Old-school.
Just like I thought.
