LOGINIRIS’S POVThe wood groaned beneath us, a deep, structural scream that vibrated through the soles of my ruined heels. Water was already bubbling up through the floorboards of the landing, dark and freezing, carrying the scent of dead salt and rotted foundation. Darius was five steps ahead, his hand out, his face a mask of jagged desperation as he waited for me to bridge the gap.But I wasn't moving.Ethan’s hand was a vice around my upper arm. His fingers, usually so careful and thin, dug into my skin with a strength that felt entirely wrong. He wasn't looking at the escape route or the crumbling turret. He was looking at me, his eyes wide and hollowed out, stripped of every ounce of the brotherly warmth I’d spent my life protecting."Ethan, let go!" I shouted over the roar of the surf crashing against the cliffs outside. "The house is falling apart. We have to move!""You don't get it, Iris," he said. His voice was flat, echoing with a chilling clarity that cut right through the
IRIS’S POVThe scream died in my throat before it could even form.Darius was a blur of charcoal grey and raw instinct. He didn't think; he lunged. His boots skidded on the rain-slicked floorboards as he threw himself toward the balcony, his hand catching the back of Ethan’s collar just as my brother’s heels cleared the stone ledge. The sound of the fabric straining was a sharp, jagged snap against the roar of the wind.Ethan dangled over the abyss, his face pale and unreadable, while Darius strained, his muscles cording under the silk of his sleeves. The rain lashed at them both, turning the scene into a chaotic mess of shadows and salt spray.I didn't run to the ledge. I couldn't. My feet were rooted to the spot, my gaze locked on the woman in the black veil. She stood perfectly still, her hands folded over the silver key, watching the struggle with an indifference that was more terrifying than the fall itself."Mom?" I whispered again, the word feeling like a piece of glass in my m
DARIUS’S POVThe darkness wasn't just an absence of light; it was a physical weight, thick with the scent of old dust and the ozone of the storm outside. I didn't need my eyes to find Iris. I could feel her. The heat radiating off her skin, the sharp, jagged rhythm of her breath, and the way her silk dress hissed against the floorboards as she moved closer to me.My hand found the small of her back, my fingers digging into the emerald fabric. I pulled her flush against my side, my body acting as a shield between her and the looming shadow of the woman at the base of the stairs. The proximity was a visceral, grounding force. In the middle of this nightmare, the only thing that felt real was the friction of her hip against mine and the way she didn't even flinch when the first of the men in the masks lunged forward."Stay close," I growled, the words vibration against the crown of her head."I’m practically inside your suit, Darius. Any closer and I’ll be on the payroll," she whispered
IRIS’S POVThe Summer House didn't need high-tech sensors to feel dangerous. It had the weight of a century of misery pressed into its floorboards. As the front door hung off its hinges, the rain began to lash into the foyer, turning the fine layer of dust into a muddy slurry. The man in the gold mask didn't move like a soldier; he moved like a debt collector who had finally lost his patience.Darius stepped in front of me, his body a solid, warm wall of charcoal wool and muscle. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a fierce, protective energy that was far more grounding than any corporate bond. He didn't reach for a weapon. He didn't need to. He just stood there, his hands loose at his sides, looking at the intruders with a bored, lethal contempt that made my heart hammer a frantic rhythm against my ribs."Sterling really has a flare for the dramatic, doesn't he?" I said, my voice cutting through the sound of the rain with a sharp, biting sarcasm. I tucked the leather ledger unde
IRIS’S POVThe Summer House didn't just feel old; it felt heavy, as if the very air was saturated with the weight of a century’s worth of unspoken sins. When the massive oak door groaned open, it released a breath of stagnant air that smelled of dried roses, sea salt, and the metallic tang of a history that refused to stay buried.Darius stepped inside first, his hand instinctively reaching back to catch mine. His grip was a grounding force, his skin hot against my freezing fingers, but even his heat couldn't dispel the chill that seemed to radiate from the stone walls. I stepped over the threshold, the train of my emerald dress whispering against the floorboards like a secret.The foyer was a tomb of Victorian excess. Heavy velvet drapes, once crimson but now a bruised, dusty purple, choked the windows. Dust motes danced in the beam of Darius’s flashlight, swirling like tiny ghosts disturbed from their sleep.Nothing had been moved.A half-empty glass of amber liquid sat on a side
DARIUS’S POVThe inside of the SUV felt like a tight dark box. The only light came from the soft green glow of the dashboard and quick flashes of lightning that made the world outside look sharp and black and white. Heavy rain pounded hard against the windshield. It sounded like constant drum beats that covered the noise of the tires rolling fast on the Long Island Expressway.Next to me Iris sat quiet like a ghost wrapped in shiny emerald silk. She had put my spare trench coat over her shoulders but it could not hide the way her hands shook while she held that old leather ledger tight. She was not watching the road at all. Her eyes stayed fixed on the empty spaces between the lines in her family history.He was always too quiet Darius she whispered. Her voice sounded soft and broken in the darkness. My brother. Even before the accident. I thought that was just how he was made. I never knew he was being emptied inside to leave space for this.He is still in there Iris I said. My voice
RIS’S POVThis basement didn’t feel sacred. It felt like a damp metal box someone shoved forgotten crimes into and hoped the tide would take care of the smell. Salt, old engine grease, rust. The so-called vault was just reinforced steel walls and a keypad that looked like it had seen more shady dea
DARIUS’S POVThe shipyard looked like God got bored and decided to leave the bones of an old empire lying around to rust. Twisted iron, salt-eaten concrete, the whole place smelled like failure and low tide. Rain hammered down in cold, spiteful sheets, washing away whatever cozy bullshit we’d had b
Iris’s povThe purge notification sat on the screen like a digital death warrant, the neon green text bleeding into the shadows of the room.I felt Darius’s body go rigid against mine, the warmth of the last ten minutes cooling into a hard, protective casing. The air in the brownstone, which had fe
IRIS’S POVThe backseat of the black sedan smelled like expensive leather and heavy floral perfume. The kind that always made me want to sneeze. Old money and older lies. My head spun with a dull throb behind my eyes. It matched the silver pulse in my neck. Every time I blinked, I saw Darius’s face







