“Where is she?”

“What happened?”

“Why is she screaming?”

Miriam stood there with her hands resting over her waist, her expression strangely calm, almost indifferent.

As if she had witnessed something like this before.

As if she already knew exactly how this night was meant to finish.

I looked beyond Julian toward the shadowy hallway.

“Audrey!” I yelled.

Nothing.

I called again.

“Audrey, it’s Dad!”

This time, something answered.

Not a scream.

A knock.

Three quiet knocks.

Then nothing.

My stomach clenched.

Three knocks.

Audrey and I had always shared a signal.

She was nine years old when her mother first became ill. During those months, hospitals and doctors had become part of our everyday routine, and I had taught Audrey something simple.

If she was ever frightened and unable to speak, she could knock three times.

Three meant yes.

Three meant danger.

Three meant, Dad, I’m still here.

I looked directly at Julian.

His expression shifted.

Only slightly.

But enough.

“You heard that,” I said.

He shrugged.

“Old house.”

“Three knocks don’t come from an old house.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

Miriam finally spoke.

“Mr. Vale, you need to leave.”

I nearly laughed.

“Your son is standing between me and my daughter holding a baseball bat.”

“She is not in danger,” Miriam said.

“Then let me see her.”

“No.”

One word.

Instant.

Final.

That was when I understood.

Whatever was happening upstairs, they did not want me to see it.

I quietly slipped my phone into my coat pocket.

The recording was still running.

I tapped the screen twice with my thumb.

A silent signal.

The message had reached Daniel Mercer.

Daniel had worked beside me for nearly eight years in the attorney general’s office. He was one of the few people who knew what I had actually done before I retired.

More importantly, he understood how I operated.

If I told him to hold his position, he would not charge into the house without thinking.

He would observe.

He would record.

And he would wait until stepping in became unavoidable.

I needed that moment.

Because Julian was not the only danger standing in my way.

I looked toward the mansion.

Thorne House had been in Julian’s family for three generations.

I had entered it only once, for Audrey’s wedding.

I remembered the marble floors.

The portraits.

The massive staircase.

The locked rooms.

And something else.

A hallway that had never appeared on the house plans I had seen while helping with the wedding preparations.

I had forgotten about it until tonight.

The mansion had always felt strange.

Too many rooms.

Too many doors.

Too much silence.

I looked back at Julian.

“Move.”

He smiled.

“No.”

I took a step toward him.

The bat slid from his shoulder.

Arthur lifted an eyebrow.

“Careful.”

I stopped.

Not because I was frightened of the bat.

Because I noticed Julian’s right hand.

His knuckles were bruised.

There was dried blood beneath his thumbnail.

It might not have been Audrey’s.

But it was blood.

Then the porch light flickered, revealing something else.

A thin red mark circled his wrist.

Like someone had recently grabbed him.

Or restrained him.

It made no sense.

If Julian had been hurting Audrey, why was he injured?

Unless someone else had been here.

My eyes moved to Arthur.

His bourbon glass shook slightly in his hand.

Interesting.

“Where’s the housekeeper?” I asked.

Miriam’s eyes sharpened.

“What?”

“The housekeeper. Mrs. Bell.”

Julian’s expression became hard.

“She isn’t here.”

“She always stays overnight.”

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

Arthur answered for him.

“She resigned.”

“Tonight?”

Silence.

There it was.

A weakness.

Small.

But real.

I smiled without warmth.

“That’s convenient.”

Arthur stepped toward me.

“You have no authority here.”

“No,” I said. “But somebody does.”

I pulled out my phone.

“I’ve already contacted the police.”

That was a lie.

Not entirely.

But close enough.

Arthur looked at Julian.

Julian looked at Miriam.

And Miriam looked toward the upstairs window.

The pale hand appeared again.

This time, five fingers pressed against the glass.

Then vanished.

I stepped forward.

“Audrey!”

A faint voice drifted down from above.

“Dad…”

My heart stopped.

She was alive.

Barely audible.

But alive.

“I’m coming.”

Julian swung the bat.

I moved before the weapon had completely left his shoulder.

Years of military training had taught me something civilians rarely understood.

The hardest part of violence was not winning.

It was deciding exactly how much force you were prepared to use.

I grabbed his wrist with both hands and stepped inside his reach.

The bat slammed into the porch railing instead of my head.

Wood splintered.

Julian cursed.

I drove my shoulder into his chest.

He staggered backward.

The bat slipped from his hand.

Arthur shouted.

Miriam screamed.

Not from fear.

From anger.

“Stop!”

Julian rushed at me with both hands.

I caught him again.

This time, I slammed him against the marble column beside the entrance.

His head struck the stone.

He went still.

I leaned toward him.

“Where is my daughter?”

His eyes opened.

The smirk was gone.

For the first time that night, I saw fear in his face.

But he wasn’t afraid of me.

He was afraid of something behind me.

I turned.

Nothing.

Only rain.

The driveway.

My truck.

The dark line of trees beyond the property.

When I turned back, Julian whispered.

“You don’t understand.”

“What?”

He swallowed.

“You think I’m the monster.”

I froze.

Arthur stepped forward.

“Julian.”

But Julian kept staring at me.

“You have no idea what she brought into this house.”

My blood ran cold.

“What did Audrey bring?”

Julian shook his head.

“Ask her.”

A violent crash came from upstairs.

Then another.

Glass shattered.

I ran through the front door.

Nobody tried to stop me.

The mansion seemed to swallow me whole.

The first thing I noticed was the smell.

Not perfume.

Not bourbon.

Something chemical.

Sharp.

Hospitals had that same smell.

Disinfectant.

Bleach.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

The foyer was enormous, just as I remembered, but tonight it seemed different.

Every lamp was off except one.

The chandelier above me hung completely still.

Rainwater dripped from my coat onto the marble.

I heard footsteps above.

Then Audrey screamed.

“Dad!”

I ran toward the staircase.

Halfway up, Julian grabbed the back of my coat.

I spun around.

Blood was running down his forehead.

“Don’t!”

I shoved him away.

“My daughter!”

“You can’t go up there!”

“Why?”

He gave me no answer.

I grabbed his shirt.

“Why?”

His eyes shifted toward the second floor.

“Because that’s what they want.”

I released him.

“Who?”

Julian said nothing.

A door slammed upstairs.

Then I heard Audrey crying.

Not screaming.

Crying.

Quietly.

The kind of crying that comes when someone has already exhausted every bit of strength they have.

I climbed the rest of the stairs.

The second-floor hallway was dark.

There were six doors.

I remembered five.

The sixth stood at the very end.

A narrow black door with no handle.

I had never seen it before.

Audrey’s voice came through it.

“Dad.”

I walked toward the door.

“I’m here.”

“Don’t open it.”

I stopped.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Her voice trembled.

“Dad, listen to me.”

I stepped closer.

There was no knob.

No keyhole.

Nothing.

“How are you talking to me?”

“There’s a vent.”

I looked above the door.

A small metal grille had been built into the wall.

“Are you hurt?”

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

“How badly?”

Another pause.

“I don’t know.”

My hands tightened into fists.

“Who did this?”

Silence.

“Audrey?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t trust Julian.”

I looked back down the hallway.

Julian was gone.

“Okay.”

“And don’t trust Arthur.”

My breathing slowed.

“Okay.”

“And Dad…”

Her voice cracked.

“Don’t let Mom come here.”

I stared at the door.

My mother?

Audrey’s mother had been dead for six years.

“Audrey,” I whispered, “your mother is dead.”

Silence.

Then a sound came through the vent.

Not crying.

Laughter.

A man’s laughter.

Low.

Soft.

Close.

I stepped backward.

“Audrey?”

No answer.

Footsteps moved inside the room.

Then someone whispered directly against the other side of the door.

“Hello, David.”

I stopped breathing.

Nobody had called me David in that voice for years.

Nobody alive.

I stepped closer.

“Who are you?”

The voice laughed again.

“You really don’t remember?”

A memory slammed into me.

A warehouse.

Eleven years earlier.

A dead informant.

A missing evidence box.

A photograph I had never been able to explain.

And a name.

Elias Voss.

I had not heard that name in more than a decade.

I backed away.

“Where’s Audrey?”

The voice answered.

“She isn’t the reason you’re here.”

My heart began pounding.

“She was bait.”

The hallway seemed to shift beneath my feet.

“What?”

“She knew you would come.”

I stared at the door.

“No.”

“She called you because she knew you would.”

My mind raced.

The emergency app.

The recording.

The automatic upload.

Had it really been accidental?

Had Audrey actually triggered it?

Or had someone known about the system?

I pulled out my phone.

The recording was still active.

Then another notification appeared.

One I had never seen before.

EVIDENCE SERVER CONNECTION: COMPROMISED.

My stomach dropped.

Someone had accessed the secure server.

Someone knew exactly where Audrey’s emergency recording would be sent.

Someone had been waiting for me to activate it.

I looked toward the staircase.

Julian stood at the bottom.

Arthur was behind him.

Miriam was gone.

Julian stared at my phone.

“You understand now?”

“No.”

“You will.”

Something moved behind me.

A click.

I turned.

A section of the wall beside the locked door had opened.

A hidden passage.

Inside was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.

And from somewhere below came a voice.

A woman’s voice.

Weak.

Terrified.

“David?”

I knew that voice.

My knees nearly gave way.

It was impossible.

Completely impossible.

Because I had heard that voice every night for six years in my dreams.

It belonged to my wife.

Audrey’s mother.

My dead wife.

I stood frozen at the entrance to the hidden staircase.

Julian whispered behind me.

“Now you know why your daughter called you.”

I turned toward him.

His face was pale.

“What is down there?”

He looked into the darkness.

Then back at me.

“Everything your family has been hiding from you.”

A sudden sound came from below.

A door slammed.

Then every light in the mansion went out.

Complete darkness.

My phone flashlight flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then died.

In the darkness, Audrey screamed.

“DAD, RUN!”

And somewhere beneath us, something heavy began climbing the stairs.