11/10/1910

  Lea woke first. She always did.

  The house was silent, save for the wind moaning through the loosened boards, the sound a slow, ghostly wail that curled around the edges of the wooden walls and seeped through the gaps like a living thing. A faint chill slithered across her exposed skin, tracing the curve of her neck, making the hairs along her arms bristle beneath the wool of her nightdress. The scent of damp earth, aged wood, and lingering smoke from last night's dying fire still clung to the air, heavy and familiar.

  She lay motionless for a moment, eyes open, staring at the water-stained ceiling as she listened. The weight of silence pressed in. No noise from the basement. That was good.

  Beside her, Maddox slept soundly, his breathing slow and deep, the measured rhythm of a man who had never truly feared anything in his life. His arm rested lazily across her waist, his fingers curled loosely against the fabric of her dress, radiating a warmth that was grounding, steady, absent of tension. He smelled of tobacco, of leather, of the faintest trace of whiskey still lingering from the night before.

  Lea shifted, slow and precise, breaking the contact between them without a sound. Maddox made a noise—something between a sigh and a grunt, the kind of noise that belonged to a man hovering just on the edge of wakefulness. His fingers flexed, then tightened, instinctively seeking her warmth. "Where you goin'?" His voice was thick with sleep.

  Lea smirked, pushing his hand off her with ease. "To check the girl."

  Maddox cracked an eye open, lazily watching her stretch, the way her spine arched, the subtle rustle of fabric against skin. His lips quirked at the corners, amused. "It's barely light out."

  She ran a hand through the tangled waves of her dark hair, smoothing it absently over one shoulder. "Exactly."

  Maddox exhaled, his breath warm against the cool air, a quiet laugh buried in his throat. Twelve years together, and he knew that tone. That sharp, clipped precision. Lea wasn't worried—not in the way most people would be—but she was calculating. Thinking. Turning things over in her mind the way a jeweler inspects a stone, searching for flaws.

  Rolling onto his back, he stretched, a satisfied groan escaping him as he did. "Let me guess—you're still thinking about the sister."

  Lea froze for the briefest moment, a hesitation so fleeting that most wouldn't have caught it. But Maddox wasn't most people.

  A flicker of something in her expression, something unspoken, before she smoothed it away, slipping effortlessly back into herself. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting the cold floorboards. "I don't like loose ends."

  Maddox hummed, rubbing a rough hand along the stubble of his jaw. "I'm still not convinced she's a loose end." Lea shot him a look over her shoulder, one brow arching. "You didn't see her."

  Maddox smirked. "No. But I saw you."

  She turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze, something unreadable flickering in her greyish eyes.

  He propped himself up on one elbow, studying her in that slow, easy way of his, that unwavering gaze that had never dulled—not through all the years, not through all the bodies they had left behind. "You're rattled."

  Lea scoffed, standing. "I don't get rattled."

  Maddox grinned, stretching back against the headboard, arms folding behind his head. "Sure you do. Just not by the things you should be rattled by."

  She ignored him, crossing the room to the small vanity near the window. Outside, the morning light bled through the mist, washing the world in a pale silver hue. She picked up the worn brush on the vanity, running it through her hair in slow, methodical strokes.

  Maddox watched her reflection in the mirror, the way her eyes narrowed slightly, the way her fingers pressed just a little too hard against the brush handle. He knew her better than he knew himself. And something about that girl was still picking at her mind, gnawing at the edges.

  With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself upright, scrubbing a hand through his unruly curls. "You want me to go back into town? Ask around?"

  Lea met his gaze in the mirror, her expression unreadable. "And ask what, exactly?"

  Maddox shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "See if anyone else has stories about her. Weird shit. You're not wrong about Black Hollow—it knows when things don't belong." He smirked. "Kinda like you."

  Lea let out a short, quiet laugh, shaking her head as she set down the brush. Turning, she faced him fully. "No." Her voice was smooth. Final. "You're staying here."

  Maddox studied her, his head tilting slightly, assessing. "So you're worried."

  Lea crossed the room in slow, measured steps, closing the distance between them with the quiet grace of a knife slipping through silk. Kneeling onto the bed beside him, her fingers traced along his collarbone, a ghost of a touch, deliberate and teasing. "I don't worry," she murmured, voice low, like a whisper of wind through dead leaves. "I prepare."

  Maddox exhaled a soft laugh, leaning into her touch. "Same thing."

  Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, tightening just enough to make her point. "Not to me."

  The silence stretched between them, thick and charged, heavy with things neither needed to say.

  Twelve years together, and they didn't need words to understand what the other was thinking.

  Maddox sighed, dropping his head back against the headboard, lips quirking in that easy, lazy way of his. "Alright, boss. What's the plan?"

  Lea released him, rising smoothly to her feet. "I'll check on the girl. Then we'll wait." Maddox raised a brow. "Wait for what?" Lea's lips curled into the smallest of smiles. A knowing thing. A quiet promise.

  "You'll see."

  The Farmhouse Basement

  The heavy clunk of the lock echoed in the still air as Lea slid it free, the sound reverberating through the old wood before she pushed the basement door open. A wave of cold air crept up her legs, thick with the scent of damp straw, sweat, and that faintly metallic tang that clung to the walls like a whisper of something unspeakable.

  She stepped onto the top stair, the lantern in her grasp swaying with her movements, its dim glow flickering across the rough stone walls, making shadows stretch and twist before snapping back into place. With each step downward, her boots clicked against the hard surface, firm, deliberate, unwavering. The further she descended, the heavier the air became, thick with something unseen, something waiting. At the bottom, she stopped.

  Sandra lay huddled against the farthest wall, her knees pulled to her chest, the hem of her nightgown tangled and stained, her small frame curled into itself like a wounded animal. Her hair clung in dark tendrils to her pale face, her breath shallow but steady. She was still unconscious. Still alive. Good.

  But it wasn't Sandra that held Lea's attention. It was Gemini.

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  The girl sat cross-legged in the straw, her posture relaxed, her expression entirely too composed. There was no fear in her sharp blue eyes, no frantic desperation or trembling lips, none of the usual signs of broken spirits or subdued terror. Instead, she watched. Studied. Calculated.

  Lea's grip on the lantern tightened. This was wrong. This was unnatural. None of them were ever like this.

  Gemini's lips curled, a slow, deliberate motion, the corners of her mouth twitching upward as if she knew something Lea didn't. "Well," she murmured, voice smooth as silk, "look who finally decided to check on us."

  Lea didn't respond. She didn't need to. She simply let the silence stretch, let it press down between them like a weight, watching for cracks.

  Most woke up crying. Pleading. Whimpering their useless little prayers into the dark, their voices choked with the raw edge of terror. That was normal. That was expected. But Gemini was neither normal nor expected. Lea stepped forward, slow and measured, each movement controlled. "Sleep well?"

  Gemini smirked, shifting slightly, stretching her arms before letting them fall lazily into her lap. "Oh, fantastic. A little rustic for my taste, but I'm adaptable." Her voice carried that same light, rolling ease, a lazy sort of amusement that should not have belonged to a girl sitting on a basement floor with a locked chain hanging just feet away.

  She flicked a glance toward Sandra, the smirk fading slightly, something unreadable slipping into her gaze. "Sandra, on the other hand..." Her tone dipped lower, quieter. "She's not quite as fond of the accommodations."

  Lea crouched in front of her, leveling their gaze, letting the lantern's light cast shifting patterns across the girl's face. "She'll adjust."

  Gemini hummed. "You sound very sure about that."

  "I am."

  A silence stretched between them, taut as a wire, both waiting for the other to pull first. Then footsteps. Heavy. Measured.

  Maddox filled the doorway as he stepped inside, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the floor. He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, his shirt still unbuttoned at the top, suspenders hanging loose at his sides. His gaze swept over Sandra first, something in his face tightening—barely, subtly—but then he glanced at Gemini, and his easy smirk returned. "She wake up yet?"

  Gemini tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder. "She's been in and out."Lea flicked a glance at Maddox. Watch her. He caught it. He always did.

  He moved past her, crouching beside Sandra, his touch surprisingly gentle as he brushed damp curls from the girl's forehead. "Hey, little bit," he murmured, voice different now—softer, careful, something rough around the edges but still warm. "You in there?"

  Sandra stirred, just barely, her small body shifting with the slow weight of exhaustion, but her eyes remained closed.

  Maddox exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. Gemini was watching him. Too closely. "Didn't peg you for the nurturing type," she mused, her voice laced with something just shy of amusement.Maddox didn't glance up. "And I didn't peg you for a smartass, but here we are."

  Gemini grinned, flashing sharp white teeth in the dim light. "Oh, you have no idea."

  Lea watched, her gaze flicking between them, reading every shift, every twitch, every unspoken message that passed beneath the surface. Gemini was testing, pushing, mapping out the weak points. Lea knew the game. And she wasn't about to lose.

  She stepped closer, gaze steady. "You're awfully calm." Gemini's smirk didn't falter. "Should I be hysterical? Screaming? Begging?"

  Lea tilted her chin slightly. "It would be more appropriate." The girl leaned forward, her voice lowering to something almost conspiratorial. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  Maddox snorted. "Careful, kid. You think you're playing, but she'd slit your throat before you finished blinking."

  Gemini turned her attention to him now, studying him with slow curiosity. "You trust her," she said, tilting her head.

  Maddox finally looked at her, his gaze lazy but sharp. "More than I trust myself."

  Gemini exhaled a short laugh. "That's dangerous."

  Maddox only smirked. "You have no idea."

  Lea stepped in closer, her presence looming just slightly, enough to remind Gemini exactly who was in control. "You're not in charge here." Gemini smiled. "Not yet." Lea's lips curled, her own smirk just a little sharper. "Never." The air shifted. A near-imperceptible flicker of something passed over Gemini's face, so quick most wouldn't have caught it. But Lea did.

  Maddox rolled his shoulders, stretching. "Guess I'll go get something. Can't have the boss getting cranky."

  Lea didn't look at him, but a flicker of amusement touched her lips.

  Maddox brushed past her, pausing at the stairs. His gaze drifted to Sandra, then to Gemini. His expression remained easy, casual. But his voice dipped, low and certain.

  "You hurt her," he said, smooth and sure, "and I'll let Lea have you." Gemini's smirk twitched.

  Maddox grinned, warm, carefree, dangerous. Then he was gone. Lea and Gemini stood in silence.And then, Gemini laughed. A slow, irritating sound that filled the empty space like something crawling.

  Sandra woke to the sound of laughter—low, rich, and dripping with amusement. It wasn't Lea's, sharp and clipped, nor Maddox's, warm and careless. No, this laughter belonged to Gemini, and that alone was enough to set Sandra's nerves on edge.

  Blinking against the dim lantern glow, she shifted, feeling the stiffness in her limbs from the long hours spent curled against the damp, unyielding stone. The straw beneath her was damp, the air thick with the stale scent of mildew, sweat, and something else—something metallic, something that made her stomach tighten involuntarily. The weight of the iron cuff around her ankle was still there, the rusted chain snaking away into the dirt, coiled like some slumbering serpent waiting to strike.

  A wave of unease prickled up her spine—not fear, not quite, but something close. Sandra knew that laugh. Knew what it meant. Gemini only laughed like that when she was playing. And Gemini never played to lose.

  With a slow, deliberate motion, Sandra pushed herself upright, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Across the room, Gemini was sprawled out in the straw, her posture all lazy grace, her head tilted back slightly as she gazed toward the ceiling with a knowing smirk pulling at her lips.

  "You're in a good mood," Sandra muttered, her voice rough with sleep.

  Gemini's sharp, bright eyes flicked toward her, amusement glittering there. "You missed all the fun."

  Sandra yawned, stretching until her spine popped. "Oh no. What a tragedy."

  Gemini's smirk widened. "The man has a soft spot for you." Sandra rolled her eyes, the motion exaggerated, unimpressed. "Yeah, that's why I woke up chained to a wall."

  Gemini lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. "That was her. The crazy one. He wouldn't have done it."

  Sandra scoffed. "And that means what? That he's our new best friend?"

  Gemini leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees, her tone turning thoughtful, almost patient. "No. It means he can be used."

  Sandra stilled. She knew that tone, that careful, measured tone that meant Gemini's mind was already miles ahead, setting pieces into place long before anyone else realized they were on the board. She shifted, stretching her sore ankle against the cold stone. "You think you can turn him?" Gemini didn't answer immediately. She tilted her head, considering. "No," she admitted finally. "Not fully. He loves her."

  Sandra frowned. "Then what's the point?"

  Gemini's smile was slow, sharp. "Love makes people stupid." Sandra snorted. "Not her. She doesn't even like people." Gemini's grin didn't waver. "Exactly." Sandra sighed, rubbing at her face. "You're going to get us killed." Gemini's expression remained entirely too calm. "I'm going to get us out."

  Sandra wanted to believe her. Really, she did. But something about the way Gemini had been watching Lea unsettled her. It wasn't just curiosity. It was more than that. It was studying. Learning. She shifted, tugging slightly at the cuff around her ankle, testing its weight, the cold bite of iron pressing into her skin. Her eyes swept the basement, the cracked stone walls, the damp ceiling, the staircase leading up into the unknown. Looking. Searching.

  Gemini caught the movement. Her smirk deepened. "Looking for an exit?"

  Sandra shot her a flat look. "No, I was admiring the architecture." Gemini let out a soft snicker. Sandra exhaled through her nose, frustration curling in her chest. "There's gotta be something. A loose board, a weak wall—anything."

  Gemini tapped her fingers against her knee, contemplative. "There's a door." Sandra's stomach jumped. "What?"

  Gemini nodded toward the far wall, where the stones looked uneven, pressed tighter together than the others, their edges darker, as if dampness had soaked through in places. "I heard it last night," she murmured. "Something behind there." Sandra swallowed hard.

  Gemini's gaze flicked back to her, her blue eyes gleaming in the dim light. "It wasn't rats." Sandra's breath hitched. "Then what was it?" Gemini's smile didn't fade. And that was the worst part. Because she didn't know. And Gemini never smiled when she didn't know something.

  —————

  Sandra couldn't sleep.

  She curled tighter beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown, her body wracked with shivers as the cold pressed deep into her bones. The iron cuff around her ankle had rubbed her skin raw, the dull ache of it impossible to ignore. But more than the discomfort, it was the wall.

  It had been hours since Gemini had whispered about it—since she had tilted her head ever so slightly toward the far end of the basement and uttered the words that now echoed endlessly in Sandra's mind. There's a door.

  She told herself it was nothing. A draft. A trick of the flickering lantern light. Maybe Gemini had said it just to stir something up, just to entertain herself. But Sandra knew better. Gemini never wasted words.

  She pulled her knees to her chest, staring at the wall. It was no different from the others—just stone, damp and ancient—but if she squinted, she could see what Gemini meant. The edges didn't look quite right. The stones seemed... forced. As if someone had once tried to seal something away.

  Sandra swallowed hard.

  Beside her, Gemini stretched languidly, looking at ease, arms folded behind her head, her smirk barely visible in the dim glow of the lantern.

  She must have felt Sandra's stare because she spoke without opening her eyes. "Still thinking about it?"

  Sandra hesitated. "What if it's just a wall?"

  Gemini hummed, the sound dripping with amusement. "And what if it's not?" Sandra clenched her fingers around the fabric of her nightgown, unease curling in her stomach. She hated when Gemini did this—when she laid down her words like cards in a quiet, patient game, waiting for Sandra to place her bet before she revealed her hand.

  Sandra inhaled sharply. "You heard something last night." Gemini's smirk widened. Sandra's pulse quickened. "What was it?" A pause. Then, at last, a single word.

  "Knocking."

  Sandra's breath caught in her throat. A slow, pulsing silence stretched between them, thick as molasses. Then—a sound. Faint. A dragging scrape from the farthest corner. Sandra locked up, her blood running cold.

  Another scrape. Closer.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Sandra's stomach twisted violently. Her eyes snapped to Gemini, her breath shallow, quick. The scraping stopped. Gemini's voice was soft. Sweet. "You still think it's just a wall?" Sandra shuddered. "What's behind it?" Gemini's head tilted, her smirk slow, knowing.

  Then, so softly Sandra almost didn't hear—

  "Something waiting.“