My throat tightened.
Not Daphne.
Not Elena.
Please.
I moved methodically.
Clearing corners.
Checking behind pillars.
Scanning the staircase landing.
Nothing moved.
The house felt hollow — gutted of life.
Every room I entered confirmed only destruction.
Furniture overturned.
Glass shattered.
But no bodies inside.
My pulse thundered in my ears as I advanced toward the rear corridor.
Then —
A sound.
Small. Broken.
A whimper.
My body reacted before my mind did.
I spun toward the direction of the noise.
Gun raised.
I rounded the corner in a flash.
And stopped.
Daphne.
She was curled inside the hidden alcove— the secret panel half-open, concealed but not fully closed.
Soft fairy lights still glowed faintly above her like a fragile shield against darkness.
Her cream romper was streaked with dust and smudges.
Her dark curls tangled around her face.
Her eyes were enormous — glassy with tears that hadn’t yet fallen.
