The days passed in a haze of silence. I barely left the apartment, afraid of what—or who—might be waiting for me outside.
I stopped answering my phone, ignored my parents’ concerned texts, and avoided looking out the window too often. The world outside had become too dangerous, too unpredictable. The isolation was suffocating, but it was the only way I could protect myself.
It was late afternoon when the knock came at the door. I froze, my pulse quickening as I debated whether to answer.
“Lila, it’s me,” Aiden’s voice called from the other side.
I clenched my fists, the anger bubbling up before I even opened the door. What was he doing here?
“I know you’re in there,” he continued. “I’m not leaving until you open the door.”
I sighed heavily and unlocked the door, swinging it open just enough to glare at him. “What do you want, Aiden?”
He stood there, holding a small box in his hands, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I brought you some stuff from your house. Thought you might want it.”
I looked at the box, my chest tightening. Inside were a few charred but salvageable items—books, a photo album, a scarf my mom had knitted for me last winter. The sight of them made my throat tighten with a mix of gratitude and bitterness.
“I don’t need your help,” I said coldly, my voice shaking.
Aiden sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “You can hate me all you want, Lila, but we’re all you’ve got right now.”
I laughed bitterly, crossing my arms. “You think I need you? I had myself long before I had any of you. And I was doing just fine.”
“Were you?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with frustration. “Because it doesn’t look like you’re fine to me. You’re shutting everyone out, Lila. You can’t fight this alone.”
I shook my head, taking a step back. “You don’t get to lecture me, Aiden. Not after everything you and your family have done. Your father threatened my family, burned down my house, and now I’m stuck here, wondering if I’m even safe in my own apartment. So, no, I don’t need you.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. But instead, he just set the box down by the door.
“I know you’re angry,” he said quietly. “You have every right to be. But don’t let that anger push everyone away. Not everyone in my family is like him.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to think that the brothers were different from Victor, that they were on my side. But the cracks in their stories, the secrets they kept—it was too much.
“Thanks for the stuff,” I said flatly, closing the door before he could say anything else.
The apartment felt even smaller after he left, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
I sat on the couch, staring at the box of belongings. The photo album caught my eye, and I opened it, flipping through the pages. The pictures were mostly intact—family vacations, birthday parties, silly moments with my parents.
Tears blurred my vision as I traced my fingers over one of the photos. It was from my thirteenth birthday, back when life was simpler, safer. Before the Cross brothers, before Victor, before Evelyn’s ghost haunted every corner of my mind.
I slammed the album shut and tossed it onto the coffee table, trying to push the memories away.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The shadows seemed to shift and move, every creak of the apartment sending a chill down my spine.
Around midnight, I heard it—footsteps.
They were faint at first, barely audible over the hum of the heater. But as I strained to listen, they grew louder, more deliberate.
I sat up, my heart racing. The footsteps were just outside my door now, slow and methodical.
Swallowing hard, I crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door. I pressed my ear against it, holding my breath. The footsteps stopped.
I reached for the doorknob, hesitating. My mind screamed at me to stay put, to call someone, to do anything but open the door.
But I had to know.
I unlocked the door and opened it just a crack, peeking out into the dimly lit hallway.
It was empty.
I stepped out, my eyes darting in every direction. The silence was deafening, my pulse thundering in my ears. I walked a few steps down the hallway, my bare feet cold against the floor.
“Hello?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Nothing.
I turned to go back inside, but as I reached the door, something caught my eye. A shadow shifted at the end of the hallway, disappearing around the corner.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat.