Leah’s pulse thundered in her ears, the rhythmic pounding of her own heart drowning out all other sound. She pressed herself against the door, her hands splayed flat against the wood as if she could will it to disappear, to melt away and grant her freedom. But it held firm, unyielding. Just like Derrick.

  Her body trembled violently, the weight of what she had just heard suffocating her. The whisper—the plea for help—echoed in her mind, looping over and over like a broken record. Someone had been in here. Someone had spoken to her. But they were gone now. Or maybe they had never been there at all.

  No. No, she couldn’t let her mind spiral. That was what Derrick wanted, wasn’t it? For her to lose herself? To become another forgotten secret locked away in this house?

  A shuffling sound came from the far corner of the room, so soft she might have imagined it. But she hadn’t. Every hair on her body stood on end as her eyes darted toward the source of the noise. The darkness was thick, impenetrable, but she could feel it—the presence of something, or someone, lingering just beyond sight.

  She had to get out.

  Leah moved quickly, her hands skimming the walls, searching, desperate. There had to be something, some weak spot, some way to escape. Her fingers met cold metal—hinges. Thick, bolted hinges that locked the door into place. She traced the outline, her mind racing. Could she rip them off? Break them somehow?

  She turned sharply, her hands scrambling for anything useful in the room. Her knee knocked against a wooden crate, the impact sharp, jarring. She dropped to her hands and knees, running her fingers along its surface. Nails jutted from the edges, bent and rusted with age.

  She pried at one with shaking fingers, wincing as the sharp metal bit into her skin. Blood slicked her grip, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. With one final wrench, the nail came free, and she stumbled backward, clutching it like a lifeline.

  Her breath came fast and shallow. Could she use this? Could she pick the lock? She had no idea how, but she had to try.

  The whisper came again.

  “…too late…”

  A sob tore from Leah’s throat as she spun around, pressing her back against the door. The voice was closer now. Right beside her.

  The darkness shifted.

  And then she saw it.

  The chest had moved.

  It had been closed before. She was certain of it. But now the lid was cracked open just enough for shadows to spill from within, curling outward like fingers reaching for her.

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Every part of her body screamed for her to run, but there was nowhere to go.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The air in the room thickened, pressing against her chest like an invisible weight. A metallic scent filled her nostrils—blood. The realization sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through her.

  This was where Derrick had hidden them. The women. His wives.

  This was their grave.

  And now, it was hers.

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head violently. “No, no, no.”

  Her fingers dug into the nail, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white. She had to get out. Now. Before Derrick came back.

  She turned to the lock, shoving the jagged metal inside, twisting, jamming, forcing it to work. Her hands shook so violently she could barely keep hold of it, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The whispers were growing louder, overlapping, merging into a chorus of desperation.

  “…don’t let him win…” “…run…” “…he’s coming…”

  A click.

  The lock shifted.

  Leah’s breath caught. She twisted the knob, shoving her shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge.

  “No,” she choked out. She tried again. Harder. But the door remained shut.

  Tears blurred her vision. She had unlocked it. She had felt it move. So why—

  A shadow fell over the crack beneath the door.

  Her stomach twisted violently. She pressed her hand over her mouth to silence her ragged breathing.

  Footsteps. Slow, measured. Just outside.

  Derrick.

  The knob twisted, and Leah’s entire body went rigid. The door creaked, inching open just enough for light to seep in, a thin golden sliver illuminating the darkness.

  And then…

  His voice.

  Soft. Amused.

  “You weren’t supposed to wake up.”

  Leah’s stomach dropped. She scrambled back, pressing herself against the wall, the nail still clutched in her bleeding fingers.

  He stepped inside.

  The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

  Darkness swallowed them both whole.

  “You ruined everything, Leah.”

  His voice was closer now, his presence an unbearable weight pressing down on her. She tried to steady her breathing, to quiet the terror clawing its way up her throat.

  “I really didn’t want it to end this way,” he sighed, as if this was nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

  Leah’s grip tightened around the nail.

  This was it. She had no more time. No more chances.

  Derrick took another step toward her.

  Leah struck.

  She didn’t think. She didn’t hesitate. She lashed out with everything she had, the nail slicing through the darkness, connecting with something solid. Derrick let out a sharp hiss of pain, and Leah felt warmth splash across her hands—blood.

  He stumbled back, cursing under his breath. “You little—”

  Leah didn’t wait for him to recover. She bolted forward, shoving past him, using the brief moment of surprise to her advantage. Her hands fumbled for the door, yanking it open, throwing herself into the dimly lit hallway beyond.

  She ran.

  Her bare feet slapped against the wooden floors, her pulse a wild, erratic rhythm. She didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to keep moving.

  Behind her, Derrick roared in fury.

  She heard him crashing after her, his footsteps pounding against the floor, closing the distance between them.

  Leah’s lungs burned. Her vision blurred. The house twisted around her, unfamiliar, endless.

  And then—

  A staircase. Leading down.

  A way out.

  She lunged for it, taking the steps two at a time, her legs screaming in protest.

  Almost there. Almost free.

  But then—a hand.

  Fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her back with brutal force.

  Leah screamed as she was pulled down, crashing against the stairs, her skull cracking against the edge.

  Pain. Blinding, searing pain.

  Dark spots clouded her vision.

  Derrick loomed over her, his face twisted in fury. Blood dripped from the wound she had given him, sliding down his cheek like a crimson tear.

  She tried to move, to fight, but her body wouldn’t respond. The world tilted violently.

  And then—

  Darkness.