CHAPTER FOUR

Aila woke with a start.

Her heart pounded as her eyes darted around the dimly lit room, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The eerie silence filled the space, making her skin crawl. Had last night really happened?

The memory of those glowing eyes, the whispering wind, and the suffocating darkness rushed back. She shuddered, curling her fingers into the sheets. But as her breathing slowed, so did her conviction. Maybe it had been a dream. Maybe she was losing her mind.

Forcing herself to move, she slipped out of bed and draped a robe over her shoulders before stepping into the hallway. The house was still, the air heavy with the scent of polished wood and something floral—her aunt's perfume.

When she reached the breakfast room, the scene that met her was so painfully normal it made her doubt everything.

Aunt Liz sat at the head of the table, delicately spreading jam onto toast. Alex was lazily scrolling through his phone, while James leaned back in his chair, stirring his coffee with half-lidded eyes.

And Theo—Theo was sitting with his arms crossed, looking completely unaffected.

They were all acting like nothing had happened.

Aila hesitated in the doorway, feeling like an outsider in her own reality.

"Morning," Alex mumbled without looking up.

"You look like you had a rough night," James added, smirking.

Her stomach twisted. That was it? No mention of the whispers, the shadows, or the thing that had reached for her?

They weren't ignoring what happened—they simply hadn't noticed it at all.

Aila swallowed hard and forced herself into her seat. Her appetite was nonexistent, but she picked up a fork anyway, pushing her food around the plate.

"We should go out tonight," Alex announced suddenly, stretching his arms. "We've been cooped up in this house too long. Let's do something fun."

James hummed in agreement. "A club, maybe?"

Aunt Liz gave an approving nod. "Sounds like a wonderful idea."

Aila blinked, caught off guard by how quickly they'd all agreed.

"You should come too," James said, nudging her. "Might help you relax."

Relax. Right. Because nothing at all was wrong.

"…Alright," she murmured, even though the idea of leaving the house made her uneasy.

Alex grinned. "Good. It's settled."

~

The music was deafening, thrumming through the floor like a pulse. Flashing neon lights painted the room in streaks of purple and blue, and the air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and expensive cologne.

At the entrance, the bouncer stopped her immediately.

"You're not getting in," he said flatly, arms crossed over his massive chest.

Aila scowled. "Seriously?"

"You're nineteen."

James sighed. "Well, this is awkward."

Alex, ever the troublemaker, smirked. "Relax. We've got this."

A few whispered words, a well-timed distraction, and a conveniently empty side door later—she was in.

The energy inside was electric. People danced on every available surface, their bodies moving in sync with the pulsing beat. The air was charged with excitement, and for the first time in days, Aila felt something other than unease.

Then the drinks started.

At first, she hesitated. But the longer she sat there—listening to her own thoughts, remembering the way the shadows had stretched toward her last night—the more she needed to forget.

So she drank.

And drank.

And drank.

It wasn't long before everything became blurred and wonderful.

Somewhere between her second and third drink, she found herself on the dance floor. The music coursed through her, and she let it take her.

She laughed as she swayed to the rhythm, twirling herself around as if she were weightless. At some point, she ended up on a table, throwing her arms into the air as she yelled along to the lyrics of a song she barely knew.

James and Alex watched in pure amusement from their seats, while Theo—ever the brooding one—remained at the bar, shaking his head.

She spotted him through the crowd.

And suddenly, she had a goal.

She stumbled off the table, half-tripping over herself as she made her way toward him.

"Theo," she slurred, gripping his wrist. "Dance with me."

He raised an eyebrow. "No."

Aila pouted. "Why not?"

"Because I don't dance."

"That's a lie," she declared. "Everyone dances."

"I don't."

She pulled harder, nearly losing her balance. "C'mon, pleaseee—"

He sighed but let her drag him onto the dance floor.

It was chaos.

Aila moved wildly, completely uncaring of how ridiculous she looked. She twirled too fast, bumped into a stranger, nearly fell, and then laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Theo mostly stood still, watching her with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"You're ridiculous," he muttered.

"Thank you," she said brightly, before nearly falling again.

Eventually, Alex and James decided it was time to leave.

"Alright, let's go," Alex called, pulling Aila toward the exit.

"No," she whined.

"Yes."

And then, in the most dramatic display of defiance possible, she kicked Alex in the balls.

James reached for her arm, and in retaliation, she threw up on him.

It was a disaster.

Theo, now looking completely done with life, ended up being the one to carry her home.

"I hate all of you," he muttered as he hoisted her up the stairs.

Aila just giggled.

Then passed out.

~

Aila woke to a pounding headache, the dull throb pulsing behind her eyes like a relentless drumbeat. Her mouth was dry, her limbs heavy, and her stomach twisted in protest at the mere thought of movement. The room swayed as she shifted, and for a brief, horrifying moment, she thought she might be sick again.

Groaning, she buried her face into her pillow, hoping that if she stayed still long enough, the world would stop spinning.

Memories from the night before came rushing back in fragmented flashes. The club. The drinks. The laughter. Theo.

Oh, God. Theo.

Her stomach twisted for an entirely different reason.

She had danced on a table. She had dragged Theo onto the dance floor. She had kicked Alex—dear, sweet Alex—right in the balls. And James…

Aila squeezed her eyes shut.

She had thrown up on James.

A pained whimper left her throat. Maybe if she lay here long enough, she would simply disappear.

But the universe wasn't that kind.

A sharp knock on her door made her jolt, sending another wave of nausea crashing through her.

"Rise and shine, party girl," Alex's voice rang out, far too cheerful for her liking.

"Go away," she croaked.

Alex laughed. "Nah, I think I'll stick around. You made last night unforgettable."

Aila groaned. "I hate you."

"You should. Especially after what you did to my future children."

Heat flooded her face. "I—I'm sorry—"

"Save it," he cut her off. "James is the real victim here."

Aila winced. She really didn't want to face him.

"Anyway," Alex continued, "breakfast is ready. You should probably eat something before you die of embarrassment and dehydration."

She muttered a half-hearted response and listened as his footsteps faded down the hall.

Dragging herself out of bed felt like a punishment. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through her skull, and when she finally managed to stand, she had to grip the edge of the nightstand for support.

She needed water. Food. A new identity.

After freshening up—meaning splashing cold water on her face and praying for a miracle—she forced herself downstairs.

The moment she entered the dining room, all eyes turned to her.

James. Alex. Theo. Aunt Liz. Harry

She swallowed.

No one said a word.

Then Alex smirked. "Morning, champ."

Aila groaned, dropping into her seat and pressing her forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Kill me."

James made a strangled sound. "You almost did."

Aila peeked at him through her fingers. "I really am sorry."

He sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't do it again."

"I won't," she vowed. "Ever."

Breakfast continued, the others chatting as if nothing had happened. It was both a relief and deeply humiliating.

She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

Then Alex clapped his hands together. "So. Since we've all recovered from last night's… adventures, how about we go out again?"

Aila shot him a horrified look. "Are you insane?"

"Not the club," he reassured her. "Something fun. Maybe a bonfire."

Aila groaned, rubbing her temples. "You guys are ridiculous."

James grinned. "Come on, Aila. You can't tell me you didn't have fun."

She scoffed. "I don't remember most of it, and what I do remember is mortifying."

Theo, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. "You were… entertaining."

Aila peeked at him, and to her horror, there was the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

She groaned again and dropped her head back onto the table. "I'm never drinking again."

Aunt Liz, who had been sipping her tea, gave an amused hum. "Good. At least something useful came out of last night."

Alex clapped his hands. "So, bonfire?"

Theo shrugged. James nodded. Aila sighed.

"Fine. As long as I never have to hear the words 'last night' again."

"Deal," Alex said. "But no promises."

---

Later that night, Aila found herself outside, bundled in a thick sweater, watching as the flames from the bonfire flickered against the night sky. The air was cool, carrying the scent of burning wood and the distant sound of crickets.

She wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the fire. It was peaceful.

Then, a shiver ran down her spine.

Not from the cold.

It was the same feeling she had the night before—like something was watching her.

She glanced around, scanning the tree line, the darkened corners of the estate. Nothing.

Just her imagination.

Still, unease settled in her stomach.

After a while, the group started to drift off, one by one, until only Theo and Aila remained by the dying fire.

Theo sat across from her, gazing at the flames, his expression unreadable.

Aila hesitated before speaking. "What were you doing in the garden last night? i saw you from my window last night"

Theo didn't look at her right away. When he did, his eyes were darker than usual, the fire reflecting in them like molten gold. "Getting some air."

She frowned. "In the middle of the night?"

He shrugged.

Something about his nonchalance unsettled her.

Aila bit her lip. "You were staring at the flowers."

Theo's lips twitched. "So were you."

She blinked. "I—"

He nodded toward the plants nearby. "Do you know what those are?"

Aila followed his gaze, her eyes landing on a pale flower with delicate petals that seemed to glow under the moonlight.

A small smile touched her lips. "Moonflowers."

Theo raised a brow. "Moonflowers?"

She nodded, leaning forward slightly. "They only bloom at night. That's what makes them special. While other flowers chase the sun, these ones wait for the moon."

Theo's gaze flickered to the flowers. "That's… poetic."

Aila chuckled. "They're kind of like secrets, you know? Hidden in plain sight, only revealing themselves when no one is looking."

Theo was quiet for a moment, then said, "You talk a lot when you're not drunk."

Aila rolled her eyes. "And you brood a lot when you are."

He huffed a small laugh.

The moment stretched between them, something unspoken lingering in the air.

Then Aila's breath hitched.

Movement.

In the darkness beyond the flowers.

Her heart stuttered.

"Theo," she whispered.

His expression changed instantly, his body tensing.

"You see it too?" she asked.

His jaw clenched.

Before she could react, the shadow lunged.

Aila stumbled back, barely able to process what she was seeing. The creature moved fast, unnaturally so, its limbs stretching like something out of a nightmare.

Theo grabbed her wrist, yanking her backward just as the thing barreled toward them. They hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her lungs.

And then—

Nothing.

The creature was gone.

Aila's chest heaved. "What… what the hell was that?"

Theo didn't answer right away. His grip on her wrist was tight, his own breathing uneven.

Then he met her gaze.

"You're not crazy," he said quietly.

Her stomach dropped.

He saw it too.