Chapter 3: The Whisper in the Dark
Elias turned sharply, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun at his hip. The closet door, barely ajar, creaked again as if something had just shifted inside. The dim glow of the bedside lamp barely touched the darkness within.
Grayson stepped forward, his hand hovering over the handle of his own weapon. “You want me to open it?” he asked in a low voice.
Elias gave a slight nod. With deliberate slowness, Grayson reached out and grasped the wooden door. The silence in the room thickened, pressing against them like an invisible force.
Then—he pulled it open.
Nothing. Just empty space.
Elias exhaled, lowering his hand from his holster. But something didn’t feel right. The air inside the closet was colder than the rest of the room, and an unnatural stillness clung to the air. He stepped closer, scanning the walls. There were no hidden compartments, no signs of forced entry.
But then, at the back of the closet, barely visible under the pale light—
Scratch marks.
Long, jagged scratches lined the wood, as though someone—or something—had clawed at the walls in desperation. Elias ran a gloved hand over them, feeling the depth of each groove.
Caroline’s voice trembled from behind him. “Emily never used that closet.”
Elias’s grip on his flashlight tightened. Something told him that whatever had been inside the closet… wasn’t entirely gone.
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