Chapter 9
922 Words
The silence after breakfast still clung to me like cobwebs. Even after returning to the golden-brown room, I couldn’t relax. I paced from the wide bed to the window and back again, my bare feet sinking into the thick rug. The walls were so quiet they seemed to hum.
I had thought that after finally getting something into my stomach, my nerves would calm, but the opposite happened. I felt restless. Caged. My body refused to sit still.
At last I couldn’t take it anymore. The door loomed across the room, tall and dark. I pressed my hand against it, half-expecting it to burn me like the strange mirror-room door had, but it didn’t. My fingers tightened around the handle, and I opened it, peering into the hallway.
Nothing.
No butler waiting in the shadows. No sign of Lucian. Just the echoing stillness of the mansion stretching ahead.
My heart thudded. I shouldn’t wander. I knew I shouldn’t. But the silence of that room was worse than danger.
I slipped into the corridor.
The hallway stretched on and on, carpeted in red and brown patterns that muffled each step. My eyes flicked to the glitter of chandeliers above, their crystals catching golden light. The longer I walked, the heavier the air felt, like the house itself was watching me.
I slowed when the first portrait appeared.
A tall man in black robes stood stiff and proud in his frame, his dark eyes alive despite the paint. I swallowed and turned, only to find another waiting beside him. A woman this time, regal, her braid sweeping over her shoulder, her chin lifted as if she looked down on everyone who dared glance up.
One after another, faces stared at me from the walls. Different clothes. Different eras. But every gaze burned with the same intensity. Authority. Strength. Legacy.
Their eyes followed me no matter where I moved.
“Family,” I whispered, the word too small in the massive corridor.
My fingers grazed the frame of one portrait, then dropped quickly as though it might burn.
At the end of the hallway stood a tall glass case, gleaming faintly under the light. Inside lay strange objects: a silver pendant shaped like a wolf’s snarling head, a dagger with a dark hilt stained at the edge, an old leather-bound book cracked along the spine, a goblet etched with unfamiliar markings.
They weren’t just antiques. They were relics. Heavy with meaning, with memory. Even through the glass, I could almost feel them hum, pulsing faintly like they were alive.
I leaned closer, breath fogging the glass.
“What are you doing?”
The voice sliced through the silence like a knife.
I gasped so hard my throat burned and nearly slammed into the glass. My hand shot to my chest as I turned, heart pounding.
Lucian stood in the shadows, arms folded, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
“You scared me,” I snapped, though my voice trembled.
“I asked what you were doing.” His words were clipped, but beneath them was a weight that prickled my skin.
“I was exploring,” I said, defiance creeping into my tone.
His eyes narrowed. “This house isn’t a playground.”
“I noticed.” I swept a hand toward the portraits. “So who are they? Ghosts? Ancestors? Or just decoration to make the place look more intimidating?”
He stepped forward, silent and smooth, like shadows bent around him. The air thickened as he came closer, until it felt like breathing through fog.
“They are mine,” he said quietly, eyes on the paintings. “My blood. My history. My legacy.”
The way he said it made goosebumps rise along my arms.
I forced a scoff, even though my chest tightened. “You say that like it’s supposed to scare me.”
His gaze cut back to me, sharp as a blade. “Doesn’t it?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came. Because yes. God, yes. Every part of me screamed to be afraid of him. Yet another part refused to show it.
His hand lifted, slow, deliberate. I flinched but didn’t move as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face. The touch was feather-light, almost gentle, but it left my skin burning.
“Don’t, ” The word slipped out, small and shaky.
He leaned closer. His breath warmed my cheek. His eyes locked on mine, searching, pulling, unraveling. For a heartbeat, the storm behind his gaze cracked, and something raw flickered through.
Not control. Not command. Something far more dangerous.
My chest rose and fell too fast, every nerve caught between terror and something I didn’t want to name.
His lips parted, as if he was about to speak.
The entire world shrank. It was him. Me. The space between us. Nothing else.
And then,
The front doors slammed open with a crash that rattled the chandelier.
“Holy fudge!” a voice shrieked, loud and sharp.
I jerked back so fast I nearly tripped. My eyes flew to the entrance at the far end of the hall.
A figure stood in the doorway, framed by the sudden blaze of daylight. Messy hair, wide eyes, a familiar tilt of her mouth.
My breath caught, my chest locking tight.
“Leah?” My voice cracked, raw and trembling.
Her jaw dropped, her gaze flicking between me and Lucian like she’d walked straight into a nightmare.
The silence that followed thundered louder than the doors had.
- Writer
