Chapter Six

Caitlyn’s POV

It was getting late, and police sirens filled my ears. Tristan wasn't pleased when I decided to call the police instead of leaving, it wasn't something I could just walk away from.

I could see the detective’s lips moving, but the words were a mystery to me. No matter how hard I tried, the image of her lifeless body hanging on the kitchen wall stuck to my head.

“Miss Fang,” the detective tapped me softly. “Are you still with us?”

“Yes, please don't call me Fang. My last name is Shoor,” I shrugged the gnawing thoughts aside. “I'm sorry, what was the question?”

“ Okay, Miss Shoor. Did you notice anyone suspicious in the area before you walked in?” he asked, locking eyes with me, pen and notepad in hand.

“No,” I muttered.

“I told you,” Tristan’s furious voice drew our attention. “I walked in and found her dead. I’d like to go home now.”

“Oh, not this kid again,” the detective sighed as he joined his colleague.

“Hi, I’m Detective Gary—”

“I know who you are,” Tristan shot him an ominous look. “And we’re done here, aren’t we?”

“This generation, always thinking they’re steps ahead,” Detective Gary chuckled lightly, but Tristan remained pissed off. I could see his fist clenched tightly, and strangely, I could feel it. I was getting angrier too, but I knew those weren’t my emotions—I was mirroring his.

“You and your little friends, always the trouble ones. Want to tell me why you were in the house in the first place?”

“School project,” he replied, feigning a smile.

As they spoke, the wind blew the door open, carrying an eerie scent with it. For a moment, I could smell her blood from the woods across the street.

I knew it was hers, but the scent clung to me.

I felt drawn out. Every step I took felt like compulsion, my actions driven by curious instinct.

Walking toward the street, I spotted a pair of eyes in the woods. I strained for a clearer look, and the darkness quickly took the shape of a person as they turned and walked away.

“What the—”

“Caitlyn!” Aunt Betty screamed as she hurried out of her car.

“What happened? Why are you even on this avenue? Are you hurt? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine, Aunt Betty,” I gave in to her tight hug.

With every passing second, I frightened myself more. I sensed someone behind us, a presence so overwhelming it felt like death.

I reacted quickly, pulling away from my aunt’s hug and bumping into someone behind me.

“Good evening, Betty,” Mr. Franklin said, his gaze dropping to me.

“Care to explain what happened here, Caitlyn?”

My heart raced, my instincts flooded with fear.

“I—”

“This is not school,” Tristan stated as he joined us by the roadside.

Mr. Franklin scoffed, stroking his chin delicately. “Let’s go, Tristan. Your dad will be worried.”

“I’m fine,” he answered.

People had gathered, taking pictures as they wheeled her body out of the house. Their chatter and the sirens buzzed through my head. My hearing was heightened, and the noise throbbed painfully.

The rush of sound hit me all at once, dizziness washing over me. I couldn’t shut it out, lost my footing, and would have fallen if Tristan hadn’t caught me in his arms.

“Caitlyn,” my aunt cried as he swept me off my feet.

“Take her to the car,” Mr. Franklin instructed, and Tristan followed without question.

His heart thumped hard against my cheek, and somehow it soothed the pain pounding in my head. My ears focused only on his heartbeat which was racing fanatically.

“Thanks,” I muttered as he helped me into the car. He turned to leave without a word when my hand subconsciously grabbed his.

A sharp, frisky joltlike an electric shock zapped through me the second I touched him. From the stunned look on his face, I knew he felt it too.

“No more lies,” I said quietly, catching me breath in between. “I’ll tell you everything, and I want you to show thesame courtesy.”

“Are you sure?” he replied calmly. “Once you step into this madness, there’s no door out. Everything you know changes.”

“Everything I knew already has,” I replied.

Our attention shifted to the detective stepping out of the house to make a phone call.

“Punk,” Tristan cussed under his breath.

“Why do you hate him?” I asked curiously.

“He’s an O’Connor—Mira’s uncle,” he answered before walking back to Mr. Franklin.

My aunt drove off as my gaze met the detective’s. From that look alone, I knew something else was going on in this town.

****

Her death was all over social media and school forums. I lay awake that night, scrolling through theories about what caused it.

Some said she finally snapped. Others believed she was killed because she knew something. I believed the second. She had wanted to tell me something.

I wondered if I was the reason she was killed—to stop her from spilling a secret.

I was still reading posts when a text from an unknown number came in.

‘Are you okay? I wanted to come see you, but I didn’t know what your aunt would say.’

I read it aloud with confusion written across my face.

‘This is your jacket guy, by the way.’

I laughed softly at the last text, rolling onto my side, my toes curling in excitement as I typed back.

‘I’m good. And you can come over anytime. My aunt wouldn’t mind.’

My heart fluttered when it was marked read almost immediately. The three dots dancing beneath made me nervous.

Why was I feeling like this? Maybe Aunt Betty was right, maybe he was more than a friend.

‘Great! So, bonfire?’ he replied.

I smiled, completely engulfed.

‘It’s a date.’

I had just sent it when a rattling sound came from my window. My head snapped up, but there was nothing there. Just the curtain billowing with the wind.

I approached carefully, heart racing, and moved to lock the window.

As I lowered the frame, I caught shadows in the glass reflection behind me.

I jerked in shock, my eyes widening as hot breaths brushed my back.

“What is this?” I asked, backing into the wall as he leaned closer, hands planted on either side of me, trapping me within his grasp.

“I want to know what you are,” Cameron said, his two partners flanking him.

“I want to unravel the mystery of Caitlyn Shoor.”