Leah’s screams died in her throat, swallowed by the oppressive darkness that surrounded her. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as she pressed her hands against the cold wooden door, feeling the solid weight of it beneath her trembling fingers. She twisted the knob again and again, but it wouldn’t budge. The lock was firm. The walls around her felt like they were closing in, suffocating, swallowing her whole.

  She pounded against the door with all her strength. “Derrick! Let me out! Please!”

  Silence.

  No footsteps. No voice on the other side. He was gone. And she was alone.

  The realization slithered down her spine like ice, and she pressed her forehead to the door, swallowing back the panic that threatened to choke her. But just as she forced herself to take a steadying breath, something shifted behind her.

  A soft rustling. The faintest whisper of movement.

  Leah’s entire body went rigid. The room was supposed to be empty. Just storage. Just old things Derrick didn’t use anymore.

  So why did it sound like something else was in here with her?

  She turned, but the darkness was absolute. Her eyes strained, searching for anything—any outline, any movement—but there was nothing. Just blackness, stretching out endlessly, suffocating in its depth. She pressed herself against the door, heart pounding so violently she could hear it in her ears.

  And then she remembered.

  The chest.

  It had been slightly open when she first entered the room, hadn’t it? She had only caught a glimpse before Derrick had found her. Had she closed it? She couldn’t remember.

  The rustling came again.

  Leah’s breath hitched. It wasn’t her imagination. Something inside the room was shifting. Moving.

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  Her fingers fumbled against the door, searching desperately for a light switch, a latch—anything to pierce the darkness. But her hands met only rough, aged wood. No switch. No way out.

  The air in the room was heavy, stale, carrying the faintest scent of something rotting beneath layers of dust. Leah swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a step forward. Her foot brushed against something soft—fabric. A dress? No, dresses. Dozens of them. A sickening wave of realization crashed over her. She had seen them before. The wedding gowns.

  They hadn’t just been relics of the past. They had belonged to someone.

  To them.

  The missing wives.

  A dry sob escaped her lips as she recoiled, nearly tripping over the uneven floorboards. She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t stay in this room. She had to find a way out.

  She moved blindly, hands reaching out in the dark. Her fingers grazed something wooden—shelves. She remembered seeing them earlier, lining the back wall. Boxes had been stacked on top, filled with things Derrick had hidden away. She ran her hands over them, hoping for something—anything—that could help her escape.

  And then she found it.

  A handle.

  A drawer, slightly open.

  Her fingers trembled as she pulled it open further. Inside, she felt paper, something brittle beneath her fingertips. A notebook? Letters? She grabbed one at random, trying to make out the raised ink, the shape of the writing in the absolute dark.

  The rustling sound returned, louder this time.

  Her breath froze in her throat.

  It was closer.

  Panic surged through her veins. She had to move. Had to get away. But where? She was trapped. She turned sharply, trying to get her bearings, trying to remember exactly where she had been standing when she entered.

  Her foot hit something solid.

  A chest. The chest.

  Leah felt bile rise in her throat as the realization set in. The noise—it had been coming from inside the chest.

  And now, it was right in front of her.

  A scrape of wood against wood filled the silence. The lid was shifting.

  It was opening.

  A scream lodged itself in Leah’s throat as she stumbled backward, arms flailing, desperate to put distance between herself and whatever was inside. But the room was too small, too filled with the ghosts of the past. Her back hit the wall, and she was trapped, frozen as the darkness around her seemed to breathe.

  And then she heard it.

  A whisper.

  Not Derrick’s voice. Not her own frantic thoughts.

  Something else.

  Something that should not have been in the room with her.

  Tears burned in her eyes as she squeezed them shut, pressing her hands over her ears. “This isn’t real,” she whispered. “This isn’t real.”

  But the whispering didn’t stop.

  It was inside the room.

  Inside her head.

  She barely had time to register the movement before something cold brushed against her arm, feather-light, but unmistakable.

  And Leah did the only thing she could do.

  She screamed.