Beneath His Skin

Chapter 4: Below the Surface

Darkness swallowed me.

My scream caught in my throat as the door slammed shut above, locking out the faint glow of the hall. A hand clamped over my mouth, another gripped my wrist, yanking me down the steps so fast I nearly tripped.

I thrashed, kicked—but the grip was unshakable.

“Shh,” a voice hissed, low and rough. “Don’t scream. You’re not supposed to be down here.”

My back hit a cold wall. The hand dropped.

I gasped, squinting.

A dim red bulb flickered overhead. Bare concrete walls. Shelves stacked with boxes. Metal tools.

And him.

Not Luca.

But a boy—maybe eighteen. Short hair. Dirt on his jeans. A busted lip.

He looked terrified.

“Who—who the hell are you?” I whispered.

He hesitated, glancing toward the stairs like someone might be listening.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Neither should you.”

“Then let me go.”

“No. If you go back up there now—he’ll know I talked to you.”

He?

“You mean Luca?” I said, voice shaking.

He winced at the name. “That’s not his real name.”

“What?”

“Luca Carter isn’t who your mom thinks he is. He’s not some troubled kid whose dad married into your family.”

I froze. “But—he lives here. He—”

“He’s using this house. Your mom. All of it. He’s hiding in plain sight.”

“Then who is he?” I whispered.

He looked me dead in the eyes.

“Luca’s not who he says he is. He’s not your stepbrother—not really.”

I blinked, stunned.

“That man’s not his father,” he added. “He works for him. Or he did. Until things went bad.”

The walls felt like they were closing in.

“No one knows his real name. But around here… they call him the Cleaner.”

I stared at him, heart pounding.

“Cleaner?” I echoed.

He nodded, voice dropping.

“He makes problems disappear.”

And before I could ask what that meant—before I could even breathe—

Footsteps creaked overhead.

Slow. Heavy.

The boy’s face drained of color.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “He’s coming.”