Page 78 of Silent Shadows

The room stills. Even Jax pauses his editing. Taylor doesn’t look embarrassed, exactly. Just worn down in a way I haven’t seen from her before.

She absentmindedly twists her coffee cup between both hands.

“I’m serious,” she says, eyes still fixed on the windshield. “What if I keep doing this forever and it’s always almost?”

Nobody answers right away.

My heart tightens unexpectedly because this… this is real. Not the fun, quirky cryptid-hunting dynamic. Not Taylor’s usual cosmic cowgirl chaos.

Just doubt. Raw and human and exhausted. Instinctively, my hand brushes the recorder beside me.

This is the moment. The kind producers kill for. Vulnerability. Cracks in the foundation. Emotional truth surfacing all on its own.

My brain starts assembling episode structure before I can stop it.

Even believers get tired eventually.

What happens when this becomes too much?

When the thing keeping you going starts wearing you down instead?

I glance toward Miles. He’s standing motionless near the monitor station, one hand resting against the edge of the table. He doesn’t jump in with reassurance, and that catches me off guard more than Taylor’s doubt does. Miles always has an answer. Not arrogant answers. Just grounding ones.

But now? Now he looks… careful. Like he understands exactly how much weight his response carries.

Taylor finally looks up at him, and suddenly I understand what this really is.

She doesn’t need him to prove Bigfoot exists.

She needs to know this life still matters if it doesn’t.

Miles exhales.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

The words land hard.

Even Maya looks surprised.

Because this is Miles Adler. Miles “migration patterns” Adler. Miles “cryptid ecology is a legitimate field discussion” Adler.

And yet he still says, “I can’t promise anybody there’s something out there.”

Taylor’s face crumples for a fleeting second before she covers it with a laugh.

“Well,” she says thinly, “that’s a horrifying reality check.”

“What’s horrifying is not believing there’s something more,” Jax counters.

Miles rubs the back of his neck once, gaze dropping to the floor before lifting again.

“Jax is right. I do believe Bigfoot is here,” he says, the conviction in his voice softer than usual. “I really do.”

“And if we’re wrong, if I’m wrong…” He pauses. “That doesn’t make us stupid.”

Nobody moves. I don’t think anyone’s breathing. Miles glances around the Machine slowly, meeting each of their eyes one at a time.

“This team still exists,” he says. “The work we do still matters—it goes way beyond Bigfoot. The cases we’ve solved and the people we’ve brought some peace to matter.”