The storm raged on outside, a relentless cacophony of thunder and crashing waves that seemed to shake the very walls of the mansion. The girls sat huddled in the master bedroom, their nerves fraying with each passing second. Five minutes had stretched into what felt like an eternity.
Sophia paced near the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “It’s been too long. Should we… should we barricade the door?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Vanessa sat stiffly in the armchair, her knuckles white as she gripped the sides. “Or maybe we should go check on them,” she muttered, though the fear in her eyes betrayed her reluctance.
Helen, standing near the center of the room with her arms crossed, spoke firmly. “Give it another minute. They said they’d come back, and they’ll come back.”
Ivy, curled up on the edge of the bed with her sketchpad clutched to her chest, whispered, “What if they don’t?”
The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The thudding sound from upstairs had stopped minutes ago, leaving only the storm to fill the void. But the silence above was more unnerving than the noise had been.
Sophia finally stopped pacing, her voice shaking as she asked, “Helen… what if something happened to them? What if the killer’s up there?”
Helen’s gaze didn’t waver, though the tightness in her jaw betrayed her own anxiety. “We wait,” she said simply. “If we panic now, we’ll make things worse. They’ll be back any second.”
Another rumble of thunder shook the windows, and Vanessa flinched, muttering under her breath. The minutes dragged on, each second a hammer pounding on their nerves.
And then, finally, a knock.
The girls froze, their breaths catching in their throats.
“Open up,” came Marcus’s voice from the other side of the door.
Relief washed over them like a wave, and Sophia practically sprinted to the door. She hesitated for a split second before turning the lock and swinging it open.
Marcus stood there, his broad frame silhouetted in the hallway’s dim light. Behind him was Dean, holding the candelabra, his face pale and drawn.
“You’re okay,” Sophia breathed, her voice filled with relief.
“We’re fine,” Marcus said, his tone calm and steady. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room as if checking that nothing had changed.
But all eyes were on Dean. He didn’t say a word as he entered the room, his shoulders tense and his expression distant, as though he’d seen something he couldn’t quite process.
“What happened?” Vanessa asked, her sharp gaze flicking between the two men. “What was all that noise?”
Marcus set the candelabra down on the table, shrugging lightly. “It wasn’t anything serious,” he said, his tone almost casual. “There was an open window upstairs, and the wind was whipping through like crazy. It made this old rocking chair move all over the place—creaking and banging like something out of a horror movie.”
Sophia frowned. “And the loud thud we heard?”
Marcus chuckled, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, that? That was Dean, tripping over a loose floorboard and landing face-first on the floor.”
Dean shot Marcus a glare, his jaw tightening. “It wasn’t funny,” he muttered, his voice low and clipped.
Marcus grinned, ignoring him. “Dude, you looked so scared. I thought you were going to bolt out the window.”
Despite herself, Sophia let out a nervous laugh, and even Vanessa cracked a faint smile.
But Helen wasn’t laughing. Her sharp eyes remained locked on Dean, who hadn’t moved from his spot near the door. “Dean,” she said, her tone deliberate. “What really happened up there?”
Dean’s gaze flicked to her, then to Marcus, who raised an eyebrow in silent warning. After a long pause, he sighed and shook his head. “It was nothing,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Marcus is right. Just an open window and some bad footing. Nothing to worry about.”
Helen didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, her attention shifting back to the group as a whole. “All right,” she said, her tone brisk. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s finish setting up the sleeping quarters and stick together for the rest of the night. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded, though the tension in the room hadn’t entirely lifted. As they moved to prepare their makeshift sleeping arrangements, the storm outside continued to howl, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs a constant reminder of their isolation.
But even as they busied themselves, more than one pair of eyes drifted to Dean, whose pale, haunted expression lingered long after the conversation had moved on.