CHAPTER 009

I feel as though the Carter estate's walls are closing in on me. I don't belong here, and every step I take reverberates through the corridors like a reminder. I didn't.

I'm still thinking about Lucas's warning. His voice had taken on a harsh and menacing tone, his eyes were filled with fire, and he gripped my wrist tightly. You're the piece in a game they're playing that you don't understand.

I wrap my arms around myself to calm my growing unease. I can't sleep since it's been a long night. I'm not safe just because Ryan hasn't approached me. I don't feel safe here at home.

I jump when someone knocks on my door.

My heart pounds in my ears as I stare at it. It's late. Who—?

One more knock. The knock was louder this time.

I urge myself to take a deep breath and move forward. As I turn the knob and pull the door open, my fingers tremble.

Nothing.

The corridor is deserted. Long shadows are thrown against the walls by the chandeliers' low light, which stretches and moves as if they were alive. My throat gets constricted.

Then I notice it.

A letter.

It contrasts sharply with the dark oak panels on the floor. Bending to pick it up makes my stomach turn. It feels wrong that the paper is chilly.

Slowly, with shaking hands, I unfold it.

The three words that glare back at me are written in rough, irate strokes: "You don't belong here."

A shiver runs down my spine. My mind is racing, and my fingers are tightly gripping the note. Who? Who would abandon this?

A sinking sensation clings to my stomach.

I almost drop the paper when I turn it over.

A fingerprint.

A thick, smudged, bloody handprint stains the back of the page.

My lungs became quite chilly.

I stagger back, holding on to the note as if it could vanish if I let go. The room is swirling around me as my vision tunnels. I rub my trembling fingers together. It's not fresh blood. The message is obvious despite its dryness.

I am warned by someone.

My thoughts are racing with all the possible outcomes. Ryan? His mom? One of the Carters? Or is there someone else involved? Is there a shadowy observer?

My heart slams into my ribs as I breathe quickly and shallowly.

Leave this place. Right now.

I make my way to the door, but the lights flicker as soon as I grab the doorknob.

All of my muscles tense up.

The room is filled with unpredictable shadows from the swaying chandelier above me.

A faint, hardly inaudible sound drifts through the atmosphere.

Steps.

My skin prickles in fear, and my pulse quickens.

I turn quickly and look around the room. Nothing. However, the feeling of constant observation can be overwhelming.

Then—

A shadow. beyond my window.

My throat tightens as I freeze. It is a tall, motionless figure.

With my knees weak under me, I push myself to take a step closer. The window is secured. I look out, trying to make sense of the darkness beyond, my breath fogging on the glass.

Nothing.

But something was there, I promise.

I flinch when a gust of wind rattles the glass. It's too quiet in the room. The silence is so intense that it causes your heart to race and your ears to twitch.

I tighten my fingers on the note and turn back toward the door. Simply go. Leave—

A groan.

The door barely opens.

I catch my breath.

The door shifts slowly, methodically, as if someone is pushing it from the other side, yet the hallway beyond is still deserted.

A whisper of air touches my skin.

I stutter backward, my heel slamming against the bed's edge.

A near-low voice breaks the stillness.

"Eva."

My breathing stops.

It feels as though my heart will explode from my chest. My vision blurs, fear digging its claws into me.

Then, without warning—

The lights go out.

Pitch darkness swallows the room.

A cool hand strokes my arm.

I scream.