Chapter 2

Tilly's POV

Whit parked in a dark alley next to the old house in Coldbrook and cut the engine. The instant the motor died, the silence became suffocating.

"We need to hurry. Bag the bones and dump them down the old mine shaft before dawn," I whispered, pulling heavy rubber gloves from the glove compartment.

But when I turned around, I saw Whit gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

He was shaking.

"Whit?" I frowned.

"I'm not going in." His Adam's apple bobbed violently, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "Tilly, I can't. It's been twenty years, but every time I close my eyes, I still hear the sound of that bastard scratching at the door when I locked her in... I'm not going in!"

I couldn't believe my ears. Whit was cowering in his leather seat like a coward.

"Are you out of your mind? You were the one who proved she wasn't Dad's kid. You made the call to lock her down there!" I hissed, grinding my teeth. "And now, when Auden's people are about to dig up our past, you're telling me you're too scared?"

"I'll keep watch completely! If anyone walks by, I'll handle them!" Whit avoided my gaze, roughly shoving a rusted brass key into my hand. "You go, Tilly. She’s nothing but dry bones now. There’s nothing to be afraid of!"

I slammed the car door shut.

For the Castellane family's wealth, for the glamorous life I already had in my grasp, I couldn't let anything go wrong. That monster who almost killed me wouldn't ruin my life twenty years later!

I navigated the overgrown front yard in the dark. I couldn't use a flashlight—even the smallest beam could attract unwanted attention.

The moment I pushed open the back door of the old house, a biting, bone-chilling draft hit my face.

It wasn't just cold. It was a damp, creeping chill that smelled of ancient mildew, slithering into my bones.

Right then, a heavy, muffled thumping echoed through the dead-silent house.

It was coming from right beneath my feet. The basement.

"Calm down, Tilly," I pressed a hand to my chest, forcing myself to breathe. "It's rats. This place has been abandoned for twenty years, the rats in the gutters are probably the size of cats. Just animals looking for food."

But the wooden floorboards groaned with my every step.

I felt my way down the steps to the basement. Oddly enough, the stench of decay I expected to hit me never came.

There was only the smell of dust and damp earth.

"It’s been twenty years, after all," I sneered internally. "The rats picked her clean long ago. Just a skeleton left. No smell. It’s what she deserves."

I reached the bottom of the stairs. The heavy, rusted iron door stood ominously in the dark. The padlock was caked in dust, its edges laced with spiderwebs—no sign of anyone ever touching it.

I let out a long breath. Thank God. No one had ever found this place.

I raised the brass key, about to jam it into the lock—

"Haha..."

A faint, childish giggle suddenly brushed against my ear!

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up instantly!

"Who's there?!" I spun around, staring into the pitch-black staircase behind me.

Nothing. Aside from the wind whistling through the door cracks, the house was dead silent.

"You're a toxic bitch, and you've been dead for years," I muttered viciously into the air, trying to embolden myself.

I turned back, gripped the key tightly, and shoved it into the keyhole—

BANG!

A deafening crash exploded from the inside of the iron door!

It was the sound of two hands desperately slamming against the door.

And then, a voice echoed from inside.

"Tilly... is that you, Tilly?"

It was the voice of a seven-year-old girl! Sweet, innocent, yet dripping with a creeping dread that froze my very soul.

The blood drained from my face. My legs gave out, and I slammed hard against the staircase railing.

It was Della’s voice! Her seven-year-old voice! We had locked her in this airtight basement with no food or water for exactly twenty years! Even if ghosts were real, there was no way she would be talking to me with a seven-year-old's vocal cords two decades later!

"Tilly, I'm so hungry—"

The voice behind the door suddenly skyrocketed into a bloodcurdling shriek.

The pounding hit the iron door like a hurricane! I could hear fingernails frantically clawing at the rusted iron, letting out an agonizing screech—

"Open the door! Open it! I know you're out there!"

"Why didn't you take me with you!!!"

The screams echoed madly in the stairwell, growing louder and more distorted! Rust rained down from the padlock, and the entire vaulted door shook violently, as if the monster inside was about to burst out and rip my throat out!

"Shut up! Shut up, you freak!" I broke down completely, screaming as tears streamed down my face.

The brass key clattered onto the concrete floor, but I didn't even have the courage to reach down and grab it.

Absolute, primal terror obliterated my sanity. I scrambled up the wooden stairs on my hands and knees, slipping repeatedly, completely oblivious to my bleeding knees.