The interior of the hospital was a cavern of shadows, its walls coated in years of grime and decay. The peeling paint hung like dead skin, exposing the rotting wood and crumbling plaster beneath. The faint light from my flashlight barely penetrated the suffocating darkness, illuminating jagged scars etched into the walls—words and symbols scratched deep by desperate hands.
Lilith followed close behind me, her boots tapping against the cracked tiles with an almost mocking rhythm. She hummed softly to herself, her voice echoing eerily through the empty space. The circus psychopaths trailed behind us, their movements unsettlingly quiet for creatures that seemed born from chaos.
I scanned the room, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of what might lie ahead pressing down on me. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the building itself was alive, watching, waiting.
“This place,” Lilith said, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife, “it’s delicious, isn’t it? All these memories. All this pain. You can practically taste it.”
I ignored her, my eyes darting to the shadows that danced along the walls.
Every creak of the floorboards, every distant drip of water, sent a jolt through me. My mind raced, conjuring images of Dove—bound, broken, screaming for me. Or worse, lying lifeless in some forgotten corner, her body discarded like the countless others who had been lost here.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me like the stench in the air.
“Focus,” I muttered to myself, my voice low.
Lilith leaned close, her breath hot against my ear. “Oh, darling, I am. Aren’t you?”
Her laugh was light, almost musical, but it carried an edge that set my teeth on edge. She twirled ahead of me, her red leather jacket catching the faint light like a beacon of madness. “Tell me, Ash,” she said, her voice sing-song, “what do you think he’s doing to her right now? Something fun, I hope.”
I spun on her, my flashlight beam catching her face. Her grin widened, her eyes sparkling with sadistic delight. My fists clenched, and for a moment, I considered ending her here and now. But I needed her—for now.
“Shut up, Lilith,” I growled, my voice barely masking the rage boiling inside me. “This isn’t a game.”
“Oh, but it is,” she said, spreading her arms wide as sheturned in a slow circle. “Everything’s a game if you know how to play. And Bentley James? He’s a master.”
I swallowed hard, the mention of his name sending a chill down my spine. I didn’t know him—had never met him—but the case files had painted a picture vivid enough to haunt me. A man obsessed with chaos, with power, with control. A man who had taken Dove’s parents from her in the most brutal way imaginable. And now he had her.
My hands shook as I imagined what he might be doing to her, the scenarios playing out in my mind like a horror film I couldn’t stop watching. Her screams, her tears, her silence. My knees threatened to buckle under the weight of it.
“Ash.” Lilith’s voice snapped me back to the present. She was standing at the end of the hall, her hand resting on a door that hung loosely on its hinges. “You coming, or are you going to keep brooding?”
I forced my legs to move, stepping into the hallway where the walls seemed to close in around us. The smell was worse here, the metallic tang of blood almost unbearable. My flashlight beam flickered across the floor, illuminating dark stains that had seeped into the tiles.
The sound of our footsteps echoed endlessly, distorted by the oppressive silence. The circus psychopaths moved ahead, their grotesque forms blending with the shadows. One of them—a wiry figure with a painted-on grin—dragged a rusted chain along the floor, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. Another carried a sledgehammer over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with unhinged anticipation.
“Why are they even here?” I muttered, more to myself than to Lilith.
“To enjoy the show,” she replied, her tone flippant. “And to clean up your mess if you can’t finish it.”
I stopped, turning to face her. “If you think this is some kind of entertainment?—”
“I don’t think,” she interrupted, her grin sharp enough to cut. “I know. And so do you.”
I stared at her, my rage simmering just below the surface. But I couldn’t waste time fighting her. Not when Dove was out there, alone and afraid.
We reached a staircase, the banister warped and splintered, the steps covered in debris. My flashlight caught movement above—a fleeting shadow that disappeared before I could process it. My heart raced, a cold sweat breaking out along my spine.
“She’s close,” I said, my voice low.
Lilith’s grin widened, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between us. She knew something. She always did. But whether she would tell me… that was another story.
“Then let’s not keep her waiting,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery.
I started up the stairs, my grip tightening on the flashlight as if it were the only thing tethering me to sanity. Every step felt like a lifetime, the shadows pressing closer, the sounds around us growing louder—whispers, laughter, the distant thud of something heavy.
And through it all, one thought consumed me:
I had to find her. No matter what it took. No matter what it cost.
