Vernon and Eleanor slipped inside the house without a sound.
The moment the door creaked shut behind them, a suffocating silence swallowed everything.
The hallway was dark.
Not the ordinary darkness of an empty house—but the kind that felt disturbed. Violated.
Broken glass cracked beneath their shoes. Drawers had been ripped out and thrown across the floor.
Papers were scattered everywhere.
A lamp lay shattered near the wall while deep scratch marks cut across the wooden furniture, as if someone had searched the entire place in desperation.
Or rage.
“Someone was looking for something,” Eleanor whispered.
Vernon scanned the wreckage with sharp eyes. “And they tore the whole house apart trying to find it.”
They moved from room to room.
Kitchen.
Study.
Guest room.
Everywhere
