A low, indecipherable sound coming from upstairs. Moaning.
I tightened my grip on the tools bag, ensuring the hidden gun was secure as I moved toward the sound.
The stairs creaked softly under my weight as I climbed, each step slow and deliberate. My ears tuned in, following the noises to a room at the end of the hallway. The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds grew louder as I approached.
I pushed the door open with a quiet creak, my gun already in hand.
The scene before me was almost laughable.
The woman I'd seen earlier—the one with the unnatural figure—squealed and scrambled off the bed, clutching a sheet to her chest as her wide eyes darted to me. Aaren, sweat dripping down his forehead, froze in place, his hands raised instinctively in surrender.
“Aiden,” he stammered, his v
