Silence settled, broken only by the storm’s roar. I watched her face, my own anxiety mirrored there. Ghosts from our past were roused by this tempest.
I raised my mug to my lips, the sweetness clashing with the bitterness coiling in my gut. Words to ease the tension felt too fragile to form, so I scanned the room instead, refusing to lower my guard.
“Did you hear that?” Amelia’s whisper jolted me.
I froze. “Hear what?”
“Footsteps,” she said, voice trembling as she glanced toward the door.
“Probably the wind,” I lied, though every nerve in me stood at attention. This place breathed secrets, its walls alive.
The door creaked, and in shuffled an older woman, a basket of cleaning supplies in hand, her faded dress swaying around her thin legs. She paused, her eyes flicking over us with unsettling precision.
“Evening, dears,” she rasped, voice warm yet strange. “Caught in the storm, are you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That obvious?”
She offered a slow nod. “Be careful in this town, people disappear. Not everyone’s as kind as they seem.”
A knot tightened in my chest. Amelia and I exchanged a glance that spoke volumes of shared dread.
“Disappear?” Amelia echoed.
The housekeeper’s gaze drifted to the rain-lashed window. “Strange things happen on nights like this. This inn’s seen its share.”
With that, she shuffled away, leaving a residue of warning in her wake.
“Brilliant,” I muttered, sipping cocoa that felt like cold ash. “Exactly what we needed.”
Amelia’s hands shook around her mug. “Maybe we should go,” she said, voice barely a breath.
I bristled. “We’d be out in that storm. We’re stuck until morning.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I just—I don’t like it here. It feels wrong.”
“Yeah,” I gritted out. “No shit.” I clenched my jaw to hold back frustration. I couldn’t let panic take us. “We’ve been through worse.”
The memory of Blake’s cabin slammed into me: walls closing in, the terror of being truly trapped. Amelia’s pale face, tears glistening. I hated that the past might swallow us again.
“I know,” she whispered, voice trembling. In her eyes, I saw that haunted flicker again.
I slid closer, closing the final inch between us, and brushed my fingers against hers. Her warmth grounded me, dimmed the roaring storm for a heartbeat. But then reality rushed back.
We sat in silence, mugs drained. I sensed something watching. A presence drifting in the corners, walls listening for our next move.
“Let’s try to rest,” I said, voice low but firm. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
We stood, hearts hammering, and headed up the corridor to our room. The night was far from over.
She laid on her bed, and I laid on mine, but the urge to get into bed with Amelia and hold her close was overwhelming.
It was fucking torture.
The darkness of the room slithered around us.
I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight, not when I had this immense need to protect Amelia and shield her from any danger that might lurk within these walls.
I focused on the sound of Amelia’s soft breathing, letting the rhythm of it calm my racing heart.
