Promises In The Dark

Erin’s POV

The house always felt different at night.

Even with all the lights on, the walls seemed to breathe quietly, as if they remembered every voice that had passed through them. I didn’t mind the quiet, but tonight it made me restless.

Luca had fallen asleep almost immediately. He always did after a full day outside. I stayed in the hallway outside his room for a while, listening to the steady sound of his breathing through the door. It calmed me.

But even then, I could feel it again — that strange sense of being watched. Not in a cruel way, but in a way that made the skin on my neck tingle.

The cameras were small and easy to miss, but I knew they were there. I could feel them.

Maybe it was just my imagination. Or maybe it was him.

I walked quietly down the hall toward the room that had been given to me. The corridor lights were dim, casting long shadows that reached all the way to the corner. Somewhere downstairs, I could hear faint voices — guards changing shifts, maybe. The usual sounds of the mansion at night.

Still, something about it felt different.

When I reached my door, I hesitated before turning the handle. The small red light on the ceiling camera blinked once, steady and silent.

I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a second. The room felt too quiet. Too still.

I sat on the bed and stared at the floor. Every time I thought I understood this house, it shifted again. Every rule changed, every expression hid another meaning. And at the center of it all was Michele — calm, unreadable, and somehow everywhere at once.

He had been distant during dinner, but not cold. Watching, always watching, like he was trying to see something in me I didn’t even know how to show.

I ran my hands over my face and lay back on the bed. The ceiling above me looked pale in the soft light. I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep might come fast.

It didn’t.

My thoughts wouldn’t stop.

There was something about the way Michele had looked at me earlier that I couldn’t shake off. Not anger, not suspicion exactly, but something else. Something heavier.

I thought about the way his voice had sounded when he told me to trust only him. About how close he had stood when he said it. I thought about the brief moment in the kitchen when his eyes had stayed on me for too long, and I couldn’t breathe right.

I turned on my side, pulling the blanket closer.

I shouldn’t have cared. He was my employer. This was his world, not mine. But something about him pulled at me in ways I couldn’t explain — a strange mix of fear and something else that felt dangerously close to comfort.

Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. The rain started soon after, tapping against the glass in soft, uneven rhythms.

For a while, I listened to it, eyes half closed. The sound was steady enough to almost lull me to sleep.

Then I heard it.

A soft creak.

My eyes opened immediately.

It came from the hallway. A quiet sound, like someone stepping carefully on the floorboards. I sat up slowly, heart starting to race. The rain outside grew louder, masking the smaller noises.

I waited. Nothing.

Maybe it was one of the guards doing his rounds. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

Still, I stood up and crossed to the door. I pressed my ear against it, holding my breath.

Another sound. A whisper of movement. Then silence again.

I unlocked the door and opened it just enough to look out. The hallway was empty. The light at the far end flickered once.

“Hello?” I said quietly.

No answer.

I stepped out a little, just enough to see down both sides of the corridor. Everything looked normal. Too normal.

I started to close the door when I noticed something. A small glint on the floor near the wall. I bent down and picked it up. It was a small metal button, dark and heavy, the kind used on the uniforms some of the guards wore.

It must have fallen off someone’s jacket.

I turned it over in my hand. The back was scratched, like someone had pulled it off in a hurry.

My stomach tightened.

I slipped it into the drawer beside the bed and sat back down. The silence pressed against me again, thicker this time.

The red light from the ceiling camera blinked faintly. For a second, I thought it flickered differently, like it had just turned back on.

Maybe Michele was checking the feeds. He probably saw me looking out earlier.

I lay back down, trying to force my eyes shut.

But I couldn’t.

The rain kept falling. The sound of thunder rolled closer. Every few seconds, lightning lit up the window, throwing pale light across the room.

Then, between one flash and the next, I saw it.

A shadow.

It moved just outside the window — too tall, too quick to be a tree branch.

I froze, every muscle locking up. The shadow lingered for a moment, then disappeared.

I sat up, my breath caught in my throat.

Someone was outside.

I got up slowly and walked to the window. The glass was cold under my palm. The garden below was dark, but I could see faint movement near the fence. One of the guards, maybe.

But no — the guards wore black jackets with visible insignia. This figure was smaller, hunched, moving low through the rain.

I stepped back, my heart pounding.

For a second, I thought about calling out, but then I remembered Michele’s words — trust only me.

If I made a sound, whoever it was might run. Or worse, come closer.

I backed away from the window and went to the door again. I hesitated before opening it, but I had to make sure Luca was safe.

The hallway looked empty, but the lights seemed dimmer now.

I moved quietly, bare feet silent on the cold floor. Every step felt heavier than the last.

When I reached Luca’s room, I pressed my ear to the door. I could still hear his soft breathing inside. Relief washed through me for a second.

Then, from behind me, a faint noise.

A click.

It sounded like the door at the end of the hall closing.

I turned quickly, but the hallway was empty again. My pulse thudded in my ears.

I took a slow step forward, eyes fixed on the far end. Nothing moved.

Still, the air felt wrong — colder, tighter.

I started walking back toward my room when a voice came softly through the intercom near the wall.

“Erin.”

I stopped dead.

The voice was low, calm, familiar. Michele.

“Go back inside,” he said. “Lock the door.”

I looked around, trying to find the nearest camera. One was above the hallway light. The red light was steady again.

“How did you—”

“Do it,” he said, his voice firm now. “Right now.”

I turned and ran back into my room, closing the door behind me and turning the lock. My hands were shaking.

The intercom on the wall beside the door crackled again.

“Don’t open it for anyone,” Michele said. “Not until I come.”

Then silence.

I stood there, trying to steady my breathing. The rain outside grew harder, slamming against the glass.

Somewhere below, I heard shouting — muffled at first, then clearer. Footsteps pounding, orders being yelled.

The house had come alive again.

I moved to the corner near the bed and crouched down, hugging my knees. My heart wouldn’t slow down.

For a few seconds, I could hear nothing but the storm. Then, faintly, a single gunshot echoed from outside.

It was distant, but sharp enough to cut through everything.

Luca’s room was still silent. I could only hope he was asleep through it all.

I stared at the locked door, waiting. The silence after the shot stretched too long.

Then the intercom crackled again.

“Stay where you are,” Michele said, his voice quieter this time. “It’s under control.”