Forbidden Hallways

Chapter 9

The glow of the red light burned into me long after I left the room. Even with the door shut tight behind me, I couldn’t erase the image from my mind. That tiny, unblinking eye, watching. Recording. Owning.

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‎I pressed a hand against my chest, willing my heartbeat to steady, but it was useless. The more I tried to calm myself, the louder the thoughts became.

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‎If there was one camera, there were more.

‎And if there were more, then there had to be a place where they all led.

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‎I should have stopped there. I should have crawled back into bed and convinced myself that ignorance was safer. But truth has claws. Once it sinks into you, it doesn’t let go.

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‎I had to know.

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‎The house was silent, heavy with the kind of stillness that made every step feel like trespassing. My bare feet carried me toward the right wing, the one Damien had forbidden. His voice still echoed in my head, sharp and unyielding. Do not enter. The words had been heavy with warning, but warnings were like locked boxes. The more tightly they were sealed, the more I needed to pry them open.

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‎The moment I turned into that hallway, the air changed.

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‎It was colder here, as though the warmth of the rest of the mansion refused to seep into this part. The floorboards creaked faintly, protesting under my weight, and the shadows thickened, sharper and more defined. My pulse climbed with every step, but I forced myself forward, telling myself that if I turned back now, I would never forgive the cowardice.

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‎The further I went, the more it felt like the house itself was warning me back. The curtains along this stretch were heavier, choking out most of the light until only thin veins of gray slipped through. Dust clung to the corners, and cobwebs sagged from the ceiling, untouched, as if this part of the mansion had been abandoned on purpose.

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‎I brushed my fingers against the wall to steady myself. The wallpaper felt colder, almost damp, and the chill sank into my skin. Every few steps I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting Marco to step out of the dark or Damien to emerge from a shadow with that cold, cutting stare that made my throat close.

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‎But no one came. Only silence followed me.

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‎I stopped when I reached a door near the end of the hallway.

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‎It didn’t belong.

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‎The other doors were carved from polished wood, elegant with their ornate details and gleaming handles. This one was crude, plain, and wrong. A slab of dark wood braced with iron bolts that had been sunk deep into the frame, as though it was meant to keep something in rather than keep people out. My stomach tightened. I reached for the knob, dull brass worn smooth by time, and tugged. It didn’t move.

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‎Locked.

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‎My skin prickled. A locked door, buried in the forbidden hallway.

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‎I crouched low, pressing my ear against it. At first there was nothing, just silence. But the longer I held my breath, the more I swore I could hear it. A hum. Soft, steady, distant. Like the low vibration of electricity running beneath the surface.

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‎I jerked back, my heart thudding. This was it. This was where the cameras led. Where the wires crawled through the walls and ended in blinking screens. My mind betrayed me with vivid images: a dark room filled with rows of monitors, each one playing me back to him. Sleeping. Eating. Breaking. Every second captured, every breath stored.

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‎The air seemed to sink colder the longer I lingered. I rubbed my arms, but the chill clung stubbornly to my skin. My breath misted faintly in the air, a fragile cloud that vanished as quickly as it appeared. The locked door almost seemed to breathe against my cheek, daring me to push harder, to find a way in.

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‎I straightened with trembling knees. My hands itched to search for a key, to tear through drawers and closets until I found the one that would fit. The thought of opening that door pressed against me like a temptation I couldn’t shake. But Damien’s voice crashed back through me, stern and unyielding.

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‎Not this hallway. Not this door.

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‎Consequences.

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‎The word coiled in my chest like a chain. He hadn’t needed to explain what he meant by consequences. His silence, his punishments, his control had already painted that picture clearly.

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‎I stepped back, my throat tight. Logic screamed at me to leave, to run back into the safer halls, but curiosity anchored me to the spot. I reached out again, brushing my fingertips over the knob, as though it might suddenly change its mind and turn beneath my hand. Still locked.

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‎And then it came.

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‎A sound.

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‎Not the low hum this time. Something sharper. A click, faint but unmistakable, like metal shifting in place.

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‎I froze. My breath stopped in my lungs. My ears strained, but the sound did not come again. The silence after was worse, as if the house itself had swallowed it whole and was holding it tight in its teeth.

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‎Every instinct screamed at me to run. But my body would not move. I stood there, rooted in place, staring at the door, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs. It felt alive, as though someone or something stood just beyond, waiting for me to take one more reckless step.

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‎Finally, I forced myself backward, one step at a time. My gaze never left that door, afraid that if I looked away, it would open and I would see what had been hidden all along. The further I moved, the more suffocating the air became, pressing against me until I felt my lungs burning.

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‎By the time I reached the start of the hallway, my chest ached from holding in breath I didn’t even know I had trapped. My hands shook, damp with cold sweat. I told myself not to look back, but I did.

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‎The locked door stood there, waiting. Still. Silent. But my body refused to believe it.

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‎I turned sharply and hurried into the other end of the mansion, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. Even as I left, the image of that door stayed carved into me. Its weight lingered, its coldness clinging to my skin like smoke. I could still hear the hum, still feel the vibration of whatever lived behind that barrier.

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‎ I found another door, unlocked. Maybe he forgot this one. My heart thudded as I turned the handle.

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