The Intruder’s Game

The house had never felt so alive in its silence. Every creak of the old wood, every faint hum of rain against glass, became amplified in the dark.

Eli stood frozen, his back pressed against the edge of the sofa. The faint glow from outside barely reached the living room, carving shadows into strange, unrecognizable shapes.

Cole moved first. “Stay here,” he whispered, hand slipping to the holster at his hip.

“No,” Damian said quietly. His voice was low, controlled, but Eli could hear the current of tension running under it. “They want us to split up. That’s the game.”

Lily’s whisper trembled from the staircase. “There’s someone *in* the house?”

“Quiet,” Damian murmured.

A floorboard groaned again — this time from deeper down the hall, near the study.

Cole raised his gun and took a slow step toward the noise, the faint beam of his flashlight cutting through the dark like a blade. Dust motes shimmered in the narrow light, then disappeared as he turned the corner.

Seconds stretched.

Then — a loud *bang*.

Lily screamed. Eli flinched hard, instinctively reaching for her hand in the dark. Damian grabbed his shoulder, pulling him down behind the couch.

“Stay low,” he ordered.

Cole’s voice came from somewhere down the hall. “It’s clear! Door slammed from the draft—no one here.”

Damian exhaled slowly, though his grip on Eli’s shoulder didn’t loosen.

Lily’s breathing was fast, shallow. “I can’t— I can’t stay here if—”

“Lily,” Damian said sharply, “look at me.”

Even in the dark, his authority cut through the panic. “You’re fine. You’re safe. But you do exactly what I say. Understood?”

She nodded, trembling.

Eli’s heart was still hammering, but his fear had shifted. It wasn’t just about the intruder anymore. It was about Damian — how calm he was, how *collected* he could stay even when everything was falling apart. It was control disguised as protection.

Cole returned, flashlight still steady in his hand. “Basement’s locked. Windows sealed. Whoever sent that message had access *before* tonight.”

Damian frowned. “Meaning they didn’t have to get in—they were already inside.”

A chill passed through Eli. “You think it’s someone we know?”

Damian’s eyes flicked toward him. “I think it’s someone who knows *us*.”

The thunder rolled faintly in the distance, followed by the metallic click of the backup generator kicking in. A few dim lights flickered to life along the baseboards — emergency strips that painted the rooms in dull amber glow.

It was just enough to see one another’s faces.

Lily was pale. Cole’s jaw was tight. Damian’s eyes looked darker than usual, the kind of dark that came from too many nights without sleep and too many ghosts refusing to stay buried.

The house felt like a trap.

And whoever had built it — physically or psychologically — was winning.

“Check the feed again,” Damian said.

Cole frowned. “There’s no power to the routers.”

“Then use your phone,” Damian snapped.

Cole pulled it out, scrolling quickly. “Signal’s gone.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning someone’s jamming the connection.”

Eli felt a shiver crawl up his spine. “They’re cutting us off.”

Damian turned toward the window, watching the rain streak across the glass. “No. They’re forcing us in.”

The implication landed hard.

Before anyone could speak, the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed — slow, heavy, echoing. It shouldn’t have. The power outage had stopped it hours ago.

Lily covered her mouth. “Damian…”

The chime struck again. And again. Twelve times in total.

Midnight.

Then silence.

Cole moved toward the sound, but Damian stopped him with a hand gesture. “No,” he said softly. “That wasn’t for us to chase. That was a signal.”

“A signal for what?” Eli asked.

Damian didn’t answer. His gaze had shifted — not to the door, but to the fireplace mantel. The family photos that had always been perfectly aligned were now slightly off. One of them, the one of Lily’s last birthday, had been turned facedown.

Eli’s breath caught. “Damian…”

He crossed the room and picked it up. On the back of the photo, written in sharp black ink, were four words:

> **“I see your cracks.”**

Lily gasped. Cole swore under his breath.

Damian’s hand tightened around the photo until the frame creaked. “They were in here,” he said. “Not last night. Tonight.”

“But how?” Eli whispered.

Damian didn’t answer. His eyes were scanning the walls, the vents, the furniture — every surface like it might hide another secret.

He turned to Cole. “Seal the exits. We search every inch of this house. Now.”

Cole nodded and disappeared down the hall again.

Lily looked between them, pale and shaking. “What if they’re still inside?”

Damian didn’t look up. “Then we’ll find them.”

He crouched near the fireplace, examining something on the floor. A faint smear of mud. Fresh.

“Eli,” he said quietly. “Get the light.”

Eli grabbed a small lamp from the side table and tilted it down. The smear led from the fireplace toward the study — then disappeared halfway across the floor.

“It’s like they vanished,” Eli said.

Damian’s expression darkened. “Not vanished. Hidden.”

He pressed a hand against the paneling near the baseboard. For a moment, nothing happened — then there was a faint click.

A thin section of wall slid open.

Behind it was a narrow passage — dark, narrow, lined with cold stone.

Lily whispered, “What is that?”

Damian stared into the opening. “Something I should’ve sealed a long time ago.”

The air spilling from the narrow opening was cold and stale, thick with the scent of dust and old wood. Eli leaned closer, peering into the darkness. The faint light from the emergency strips caught on the stone walls and vanished after a few feet.

Damian stared into it for a long moment before stepping back. “Cole,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Get a light.”

Cole returned quickly with a small tactical flashlight. He aimed the beam into the passage — and the light disappeared into the dark like it was being swallowed.

Lily clutched the banister. “You’re not seriously going in there?”

Damian’s jaw set. “Someone’s been using this. We need to know where it leads.”

Cole moved forward automatically, but Damian raised a hand. “I’ll go first.”

Eli frowned. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Damian’s eyes flicked toward him — part warning, part something else. “No.”

Eli didn’t move. “You’ll need another set of eyes.”

For a second, it looked like Damian might argue, but then he nodded once. “Fine. Stay close.”

He ducked into the passage, flashlight in hand, the beam cutting through the dark. Eli followed close behind. The air grew colder the farther they went, the walls pressing in tighter. The sound of their footsteps echoed — uneven, hollow.

The narrow tunnel turned sharply after several meters, then sloped downward. Damian ran his hand along the wall, tracing something faint etched into the stone — marks, old and deliberate.

“What is this place?” Eli whispered.

“Part of the original foundation,” Damian said. “This house was built in the 1920s. There are maintenance shafts that were never sealed. I thought they were just blueprints. I was wrong.”

The tunnel widened slightly, revealing a small alcove ahead — just big enough for two people to stand in. Damian swept the light across the floor.

Footprints. Fresh ones.

Eli’s pulse spiked. “Someone’s been here tonight.”

Damian crouched, studying the prints. “One person. Boots, size ten or eleven. Not heavy — whoever it is moves carefully.”

Eli noticed something else glinting in the light. “What’s that?”

On the ground, half buried in dust, lay a small silver object — a pendant, tarnished but unmistakably recent. Damian picked it up and turned it over. It was shaped like a chess piece — a knight.

Eli frowned. “A symbol?”

“Or a message,” Damian said. “They’re calling this a game, after all.”

He pocketed the pendant, standing slowly. “We go deeper.”

The tunnel bent again, this time opening into a low room beneath the house. Shelves lined the walls — old storage, forgotten tools, broken furniture. But in the middle of the room sat something new.

A chair.

It was simple, metal, and out of place among the dust and cobwebs. A single bare bulb hung above it, its cord running up through a hole in the ceiling toward the floorboards above.

Eli felt the hair rise on his arms. “This… wasn’t built in the twenties.”

“No,” Damian said quietly. “It wasn’t.”

He approached the chair slowly, the flashlight steady in his hand. The metal gleamed faintly. Around the legs were faint scuff marks — signs of movement, someone dragging it back and forth.

On the wall behind it, words had been scrawled in black marker:

**YOU WATCH. I LEARN.**

Eli took a step back. “Damian…”

He didn’t move. His expression had gone unreadable — the cold mask he wore when processing something he couldn’t afford to feel.

“This isn’t random,” he said finally. “Whoever did this knows how I think. They knew I’d find this.”

Eli’s chest tightened. “Then they’re not just watching you. They’re *studying* you.”

Damian nodded slowly. “And now they’re ready to play.”

He scanned the room again, every surface, every corner — until the beam landed on a small stack of photos pinned to the far wall.

“Don’t look,” he warned, but Eli was already moving.

The photos were black and white, printed on cheap paper. Blurry, grainy — but recognizable.

The first showed the living room.

The second — Lily asleep on the couch.

The third — Damian standing at the window, unaware.

And the last — Eli, in the hallway, looking straight at the camera.

Eli felt his stomach twist. “That means someone was behind me.”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “They want us to know that.”

He pulled the photos down, slipping them into his pocket, then turned toward the small set of steps leading upward from the far corner. “This leads back to the east wing. We’re done here for now.”

Eli followed him out of the room, glancing back one last time at the chair and the words on the wall. *You watch. I learn.*

The light flickered once before Damian switched it off.

When they climbed back into the main hall, Lily was waiting by the hidden panel, her face pale. “Did you find anything?”

Damian’s expression gave nothing away. “Just an old passage. Nothing to worry about,” Damian finished, his tone calm — too calm. The kind of calm that meant he was trying not to scare anyone.

Lily didn’t look convinced. Her eyes darted from Damian’s face to Eli’s. “You both look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Eli forced a weak smile. “More like… the house’s dirty secrets.”

She frowned but didn’t press. Damian turned to Cole. “Lock down the east wing. Nobody goes in or out without my say. I want security on every entry point.”

“Yes, sir,” Cole said, already moving.

Lily crossed her arms. “And what about the rest of us? You can’t seriously expect us to sleep after—whatever that was.”

Damian hesitated, then said, “You’ll stay in my room. Both of you.”

Eli blinked. “What?”

“It’s the safest part of the house,” Damian said firmly. “Steel locks, reinforced glass, and it’s within sight of the control monitors.”

Eli opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Damian stopped him. The quiet authority in his tone left no room for argument.

“Fine,” Lily muttered. “But if something jumps out of the closet, I’m blaming both of you.”

Damian’s lips twitched. “Noted.”

They followed him up the grand staircase, the silence between them thick. Every creak of the floorboards felt louder than usual. The storm outside had grown heavier, wind rattling the windows.

When they entered Damian’s room, Eli realized it was the first time he’d actually been inside. It was large, minimalist, and severe — like its owner. Dark furniture, clean lines, and everything positioned with precision. The only personal touches were the framed photos on the wall — his late wife, Lily as a child, and one old black-and-white photo of the house itself.

Damian locked the door behind them, checked the window sensors, then crossed to the desk. He pressed a small button hidden beneath the lamp, and a concealed panel in the wall slid open to reveal a monitor feed.

Every hallway. Every door. Every exterior view.

Lily gasped softly. “You have cameras everywhere?”

“Except bedrooms and bathrooms,” Damian said, his tone dry. “I value privacy, even when it’s inconvenient.”

Eli stepped closer, eyes scanning the screens. Most were still, except one — the view from the east wing hallway, near the hidden passage. The feed flickered once, then cleared. Empty.

“Anything?” Damian asked.

Eli shook his head. “No movement.”

Damian leaned back in his chair, eyes on the screens. “They’re testing us. Seeing how we react.”

Lily sat on the edge of the bed, her hands twisting nervously. “So what do we do now?”

Damian’s gaze softened, just for a second. “We wait.”

That word — *wait* — carried a weight Eli didn’t like. Waiting meant letting fear build. Letting the unknown grow teeth.

He moved closer to the desk. “You think they’ll come back?”

Damian didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, “They already have.”

Eli frowned. “What do you mean?”

Damian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something small — the silver knight pendant they’d found in the tunnel. He set it on the desk between them.

Only now, in the brighter light, Eli noticed something engraved on the back. Tiny letters, neat and deliberate.

> **ROUND TWO. MIDNIGHT.**

Lily leaned forward. “Midnight? That’s in—” she checked the clock on the wall “—twenty minutes.”

Damian’s eyes met Eli’s. The same understanding passed between them: this wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

---

The minutes crawled.

Rain beat against the windows like a heartbeat, steady and insistent. Lily dozed lightly on the bed, exhaustion finally overtaking her, while Damian and Eli sat by the monitors. Neither spoke.

The feed from the east wing flickered again.

Eli straightened. “There.”

Damian leaned forward. On-screen, a figure stood at the end of the hallway — tall, hooded, perfectly still.

No face. No movement.

Then, slowly, the figure lifted a hand and placed something small on the floor before stepping backward — fading into shadow.

Eli’s breath caught. “What did they drop?”

Damian didn’t answer. He was already up, crossing to the door. “Stay here.”

“Damian, wait—” Eli started, but Damian was gone, the door closing behind him.

Eli swore under his breath. He glanced at Lily, still asleep, then back at the monitor. The object the figure had left behind glinted faintly in the dim hall light.

He couldn’t sit there doing nothing.

Grabbing the flashlight from the desk, Eli slipped into the hall.

The mansion was silent. Too silent. The storm outside seemed distant now, muffled by the thick walls. Every step echoed off marble and wood.

He reached the east wing corridor, the one that had been sealed hours earlier. The security bar was still in place — untouched. But the door beyond it stood slightly open.

He eased it wider.

The hallway beyond was empty.

Except for the object lying in the center of the floor — another chess piece. This time, a black queen.

And beneath it, a folded note.

Eli crouched, heart pounding, and opened it.

**THE QUEEN WATCHES THE KING.

THE KING CAN’T MOVE WITHOUT HER.**

He stared at the words, confusion twisting in his gut. What did it mean? A threat? A warning? Or something else?

He turned as footsteps approached from behind.

Damian stood there, eyes sharp. “I told you to stay put.”

Eli held out the note. “They left this.”

Damian took it, reading silently. His jaw tightened. “They’re taunting us. Using symbolism to make it a game.”

Eli nodded slowly. “So what’s their next move?”

Damian folded the note, slipping it into his pocket. “Not theirs,” he said quietly. “Ours.”

It my birthday Guys 🥳