chapter 2- The Devil's House
2021 Words
The door closed behind Adrian.
She stood frozen in the middle of the enormous living room, staring at the place where he had disappeared.
I wanted them to think you were dead.
His words repeated in her head.
Who was this man?
And why had he saved her?
No—he hadn't saved her.
He had brought her here for a reason.
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked around.
The mansion was strangely quiet. There were no servants walking around, no voices coming from other rooms, not even the sound of a television.
Only the rain beating against the tall windows.
She suddenly felt very small.
Very alone.
“Hello?”
Her voice echoed through the room.
Nothing.
She swallowed.
Maybe she should leave.
The thought barely formed before she heard a lock click somewhere behind her.
She spun around.
The front door was locked.
Her heart dropped.
She rushed toward it and tried the handle.
Nothing.
“Open!”
She pulled harder.
Still nothing.
Panic began crawling up her throat.
“Adrian!”
No answer.
She pounded against the door.
“Adrian!”
Footsteps sounded behind her.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned.
Adrian stood at the entrance of the hallway.
His jacket was gone, leaving him in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was slightly wet from the rain, and his expression was impossible to read.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“You can't keep me here.”
“I can.”
“I need to go.”
“Where?”
She opened her mouth.
Again, she had no answer.
Adrian walked toward her.
“Back to the people who were chasing you?”
She said nothing.
“They'll find you before you reach the end of the road.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know who they are.”
She stared at him.
“You know them?”
“Yes.”
“Who are they?”
Adrian stopped a few feet away.
“That's not a conversation we're having tonight.”
“Then when?”
“When I decide you're ready.”
She laughed nervously.
“Who do you think you are?”
His eyes narrowed.
“The person keeping you alive.”
She hated how calm he was.
She hated even more that part of her believed him.
“Why?” she whispered.
Adrian studied her face.
For a moment, something changed in his expression.
Something almost painful.
Then it disappeared.
“Because you're useful to me.”
Her heart sank.
“Useful?”
“Yes.”
“So this has nothing to do with helping me?”
“No.”
His honesty hurt more than a lie would have.
She stepped backward.
“What do you want?”
“You'll find out.”
“I want to leave.”
“And I want you to stay.”
Her eyes flashed with anger.
“You can't force me.”
Adrian gave her a strange look.
“Can't I?”
She stared at him.
There was something about the way he said it that made her skin prickle.
He walked past her and headed toward the staircase.
“Your room is upstairs.”
“I don't want a room.”
“You need somewhere to sleep.”
“I'll sleep outside.”
“Be my guest.”
She watched him disappear up the stairs.
She stood there for several seconds.
Then she followed.
Not because she trusted him.
Because she had nowhere else to go.
---
The bedroom was bigger than the entire apartment she'd lived in for the past three years.
A huge bed stood in the center, covered with white sheets. There was a balcony overlooking the gardens, a walk-in closet filled with clothes that clearly weren't hers, and a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel.
She stared at the clothes.
“Where did these come from?”
Adrian stood by the door.
“I had them brought in.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know my size?”
He didn't answer.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You've been watching me.”
“No.”
“You knew I would be on that street.”
“I knew you would run.”
“How?”
He simply looked at her.
That look made her uncomfortable.
She crossed her arms.
“Who are you?”
“You already asked me that.”
“And you didn't answer properly.”
“My name is Adrian.”
“Your full name.”
Silence.
“Adrian what?”
He walked toward the door.
“Get some sleep.”
“Wait.”
He stopped.
She hesitated.
There was one question she needed answered.
“Why did you call me sweetheart?”
His eyes met hers.
For the first time, she saw something she couldn't explain.
Recognition.
Not curiosity.
Recognition.
As though he had known her long before tonight.
His voice was quiet.
“Because it suits you.”
Then he left.
The door closed.
She stared at it.
Something wasn't right.
She walked toward the door and tried the handle.
It opened.
She blinked.
He hadn't locked it.
She stepped into the hallway.
The mansion was dark.
She could leave.
She hurried downstairs.
The front door was still locked.
She searched for another exit.
A hallway led toward the back of the house.
She followed it.
At the end was another door.
She tried it.
Locked.
“Of course.”
She turned around.
A photograph on the wall caught her attention.
She stepped closer.
It was an old photograph of Adrian.
He looked younger.
Maybe eighteen or nineteen.
Beside him stood an older man.
Her breath caught.
She knew that man.
She had seen him before.
At home.
In photographs.
In newspaper articles.
Her father's old business partner.
Mr. Blackwood.
The man who had disappeared seven years ago.
She stared at the photograph.
“No…”
Her hands began trembling.
Why would Adrian have a picture with him?
And why had she seen the same man standing beside her father?
She looked around nervously.
Maybe she was imagining things.
She reached toward the photograph.
Before her fingers could touch it—
“Looking for something?”
She jumped.
Adrian stood behind her.
She spun around.
“You scared me.”
“You shouldn't be wandering around my house.”
“You shouldn't have pictures of people connected to my family.”
His expression changed.
“What did you say?”
She pointed at the photograph.
“Him. I know him.”
Adrian's eyes moved toward the picture.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“You know who he is.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
She swallowed.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“How do you know him?”
“My father knew him.”
“And what else?”
“Nothing.”
“Think carefully.”
She stepped back.
“I told you, nothing.”
Adrian moved closer.
“What did your father tell you about him?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you recognize him?”
“Because I've seen photographs of him.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
Adrian stared at her for a long moment.
Then he looked away.
“Go upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because you're asking questions you aren't ready to hear the answers to.”
She refused to move.
“What happened to Mr. Blackwood?”
Adrian's face became cold.
“He died.”
She frowned.
“No. He disappeared.”
“People disappear before they die.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It doesn't have to.”
He walked past her.
She turned.
“Adrian.”
He stopped.
“Did you know my father?”
His back stiffened.
That was enough of an answer.
“You did.”
He remained silent.
“How?”
He finally turned.
“You ask too many questions.”
“And you give too few answers.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Adrian said quietly,
“Your father wasn't the man you thought he was.”
Her stomach twisted.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should stop digging.”
“My father is dead.”
“I know.”
“You're talking about him like you knew him.”
“I did.”
She stared at him.
“How?”
Adrian stepped closer.
“Because he destroyed my family.”
Her breath caught.
“What?”
He walked away before she could ask anything else.
She stood there, stunned.
Her father had always been a kind man.
At least, that's what she'd believed.
But now everything she thought she knew was beginning to crack.
---
Hours later, she lay awake in the unfamiliar bedroom.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Adrian's words haunted her.
Your father wasn't the man you thought he was.
She turned toward the window.
The rain had stopped.
Moonlight slipped through the curtains.
Then she heard something.
A faint sound.
A door opening downstairs.
She sat up.
Someone was moving through the mansion.
She quietly stepped out of bed.
The hallway was dark.
She followed the sound down the stairs.
Voices.
Men were talking.
She stopped behind the wall and listened.
“She's here,” a stranger said.
Her blood froze.
Another man answered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Does Adrian know?”
A pause.
“No.”
Her heart began racing.
They were talking about her.
She slowly backed away.
Then—
A hand covered her mouth.
She screamed into the palm.
An arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her backward.
She struggled.
Until she recognized the scent.
Adrian.
“Don't make a sound,” he whispered.
She stopped fighting.
He released her mouth but kept his arm around her.
The two men downstairs continued talking.
“We need to take her before morning.”
“Adrian will kill us.”
“He won't know.”
Adrian's expression became terrifying.
He leaned toward her ear.
“Stay here.”
She shook her head.
He disappeared around the corner.
Seconds later, she heard footsteps.
Then a crash.
A man's scream.
Another crash.
Silence.
She covered her mouth.
What had just happened?
Adrian returned a few moments later.
His breathing was calm.
Too calm.
“Come.”
She didn't move.
“What did you do?”
“Come.”
She followed him upstairs.
Once they reached the bedroom, he closed the door.
She stared at him.
“You hurt them.”
“They came here to hurt you.”
“You could have called the police.”
His eyes darkened.
“The police wouldn't have helped.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the people you're running from have people everywhere.”
She felt tears burning her eyes.
“Who are they?”
Adrian stepped closer.
“Your father's enemies.”
She shook her head.
“My father didn't have enemies.”
Adrian's expression softened slightly.
“He did.”
“Who?”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“The same people who killed him.”
Her breath stopped.
“My father wasn't killed in an accident?”
“No.”
The room seemed to spin.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
She backed away.
Adrian reached for her, but she stepped out of his reach.
“Don't touch me.”
He stopped.
For the first time, she saw something vulnerable in his eyes.
Then it vanished.
“You're going to hate me,” he said quietly.
She stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because when you discover the truth…”
He paused.
“You'll realize I was never your rescuer.”
Her voice trembled.
“Then what are you?”
Adrian's gaze held hers.
“Your sweetest nightmare.”
And somehow, she knew he wasn't threatening her.
He was warning her.
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