Beneath His Skin

Chapter 3: The Warning Beneath His Skin

The blood on his hand didn’t smear when he clenched his fist.

It dripped.

I froze, breath caught in my throat, as Luca stood in the doorway like a shadow that didn’t belong in daylight.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” he said.

“I wasn’t— I just heard—”

His eyes narrowed. “You heard nothing.”

He took a slow step toward me.

Then another.

“I saw—”

“No,” he said coldly. “You think you saw something.”

The silence between us stretched tight like a wire.

“Luca... whose blood is that?” I whispered.

He looked at his hand like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t evidence. Like it wasn’t a warning.

Then he smirked.

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t want answers.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared down the hall.

---

That night, I tried to convince myself it was nothing.

That maybe he’d cut his hand.

That maybe I hadn’t seen what I thought I saw.

But the way he looked at me—like I’d seen too much—kept replaying over and over.

I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t breathe in this house full of closed doors.

So I left my room.

Just to clear my head.

Just to feel like I still had a grip on reality.

But when I passed the grand staircase... I heard it.

A voice.

Not Luca’s.

Low. Distorted.

Whispering my name.

“Ava…”

I turned toward the sound.

It was coming from the basement.

The only place in the house I’d been told not to go.

The door was cracked open.

A light flickered below.

And on the top step—barely visible—was something that made my blood run cold.

My phone.

I hadn’t brought it downstairs.

I stepped closer, heart pounding.

The whisper came again.

“Ava... come here.”

I reached out, touched the door—

And before I could scream—

A hand shot out from the dark and yanked me inside.