Chapter 9:The House of Ghosts...

The drive back to my old house was silent.

Adrian kept his eyes on the road, his grip firm on the steering wheel, but I could feel his attention flickering toward me. I didn't blame him. I must've looked like a woman walking toward her own execution.

Because in a way, I was.

I hadn't set foot in that house since John died.

The memories were thick there—woven into the walls, pressed into the air. The life I had tried to leave behind was waiting for me inside those doors.

And now, I had to face it.

"We don't have to do this tonight," Adrian said, his voice low.

I stared out the window, watching as familiar streets passed by, pulling me deeper into the past. "Yes, we do."

Adrian didn't argue.

He knew as well as I did—if John left something behind, the people hunting me were looking for it too. Every second we wasted gave them more time to find it first.

And if they got to it before we did… I wouldn't live long enough to regret it.

The moment we pulled into the driveway, my chest tightened.

The house stood exactly as I remembered—two stories of pale brick and dark windows, standing against the night like a silent witness. A place frozen in time.

It wasn't abandoned. I still owned it, though I had never come back. It was as if the house had been holding its breath, waiting for my return.

Adrian killed the engine. He scanned the street once before turning to me. "You ready?"

No.

But I nodded anyway.

He stepped out first, his stance alert, his hand resting near the gun at his side. I followed, my legs heavy as I approached the front door.

My fingers trembled as I unlocked it. The door creaked open, revealing darkness.

The scent of dust and faded memories filled my lungs.

I stepped inside.

And the past swallowed me whole.

Everything was exactly as I had left it.

The furniture, the framed photographs, the rug in the hallway where John used to pace when he was thinking.

Adrian shut the door behind us. "Where do we start?"

I swallowed, forcing myself to think. "His office. If he left something behind, it'll be there."

We moved through the house in silence.

But I wasn't alone.

I could feel him here.

Not in a supernatural way, but in the way grief clings to a place. Every shadow held a memory. Every breath I took felt like I was inhaling pieces of a life I no longer had.

I pushed forward, leading Adrian upstairs to John's office.

The door was slightly ajar, the air inside undisturbed.

I hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

Adrian flicked on the light.

The office was neat, just as John had always kept it. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with law books, old case files, and journals. His desk sat in the center of the room, untouched.

I ran my fingers over the surface, tracing the familiar scratches in the wood.

Then I turned to the bookshelves.

"If he hid something, it won't be obvious," I murmured.

Adrian nodded, already scanning the shelves. "Look for anything out of place."

I moved to the desk drawers, pulling each one open. Paperwork. Bills. Old notes written in John's precise handwriting.

Nothing.

Then I noticed something.

A book on the shelf—slightly out of alignment.

I reached for it, my fingers brushing the spine.

Something clicked.

And then, to my shock, the shelf shifted.

Adrian stepped beside me instantly, his body tense. "What the hell?"

The section of the bookshelf swung open, revealing a hidden compartment.

Inside was a small, locked box.

My heart pounded.

John had left something behind.

And now, I was about to find out what it was.

I grabbed the box and set it on the desk.

It was metal, about the size of a shoebox, and locked with a small combination dial.

Adrian studied it. "Can you open it?"

I took a shaky breath. "I can try."

I turned the dial, testing numbers—our anniversary, John's birthday, even my own.

Nothing worked.

Frustration gnawed at me.

John wouldn't have hidden this if it weren't important. And if he thought I'd need it one day, he would've given me a way to open it.

Think, Everly.

I closed my eyes, sifting through memories.

Then it hit me.

A number.

A date.

The night we met.

I turned the dial.

Click.

The lock released.

Adrian leaned in as I lifted the lid.

Inside were documents—papers, photographs, and a single flash drive.

I picked up the top document, my hands shaking.

It was a ledger.

Filled with names, dates, and transactions.

And stamped at the top was a symbol—a crest.

A crest I had seen before.

A crest belonging to a powerful organization.

Adrian's jaw tightened. "Looks like John was sitting on something bigger than we thought."

My stomach churned.

John hadn't just been investigating something dangerous.

He had been gathering evidence.

And now, I had just uncovered it.

A noise downstairs.

Both Adrian and I froze.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Slow.

Someone was in the house.

Adrian moved first, shoving the documents back into the box and snapping it shut. "We need to go. Now."

I grabbed the box and clutched it to my chest.

The footsteps grew closer.

Adrian drew his gun.

The air in the room crackled with danger.

We had found the truth.

But now…

The people hunting me had found us.