It was late. That kind of late where the night felt like it was holding its breath.
Dinner was over, and the halls of the mansion were unusually still. Alva and Sam strolled slowly, heels tapping against marble floors while little Alice skipped ahead, twirling like the world was still innocent.
The soft glow from the chandeliers painted golden light over the walls—but even that couldn't cover up the tension clinging to Sam like perfume she didn't want to wear.
Her phone buzzed.
Again.
And again.
And again.
She ignored it each time, eyes fixed on nothing, lips pressed tightly like they were holding in a confession.
Alva slowed, casually, but she didn't miss a thing. "You good?" she asked, her voice light but laced with knowing.
Sam flinched. Just slightly. "It's nothing," she mumbled, eyes flicking to the side. "I just… I feel weird tonight."
Weird, Alva thought. That's the word people use when they're lying but can't come up with anything better.
She didn't press—yet. Instead, she let the silence pull the truth to the surface.
Then, gently: "Is it Tim?"
Sam blinked, hard. "No. No, it's not about Tim. It's—my family. Something came up. That's all."
Alva's gaze lingered, sharp but not cold. She knew when someone was dancing around the truth. And Sam? She was practically doing pirouettes.
Alva reached out and gave her a soft pat on the back. "Whatever it is... just be smart, okay?" she said, voice calm but carrying weight.
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and made her way toward Cody, who was leaning casually against a column, pretending not to listen in.
Sam stayed frozen. Her mind wasn't in that hallway anymore—it was out there, chasing something in the dark.
And right on cue, Tim appeared from the shadows, hands in his pockets, smile just a little too polite. He gave a short wave, eyes flicking to Sam like a secret, and then walked straight past them, out into the night.
Sam didn't move. She didn't speak.
Only the distant sound of wind tapped against the windows now. The mansion fell still, like it was waiting.
Outside, the driveway stretched out into the shadows—long, empty, and full of unanswered questions.
***
It was already late at night...
Tim and Sam walked down the street.
After passing the men dressed in black suits, they left the mansion, then Tim drove them out. But halfway down the road, he suddenly stopped the car.
"What's going on?" Sam asked, her voice low.
Tim narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. "I think the car got stuck or something…" He opened the door. "I'm coming. Let me check it out," he said and stepped outside.
Sam's phone rang again.
Her eyes widened. She quickly muted it and stuffed it deep into her pocket, stealing a glance toward the woods around them. The trees looked too tall. Too still. The kind of place you wouldn't want to be stuck after dark.
Even the birds had gone quiet, except for the occasional high-pitched chirp. Somewhere above, a bat swooped past, flapping wildly.
Creepy.
Sam shivered, then got out of the car and walked over to Tim, who was crouched near the front tire, inspecting it.
"I think we're stuck here. The car's not moving," Tim said, frowning. "The tire's completely burst. Looks like it happened recently." He glanced up, eyes locking onto her like he was searching for something in her face.
Sam swallowed hard.
"Don't be scared," he added, trying to sound calm. "We can stay in the car and wait till tomorrow. Or until Cody's guard team shows up. They said they'll be late."
Sam looked down, then softly said, "I'm sorry."
Tim stood up slowly, confused. "Uh... why are you apologizing?"
Sam hesitated.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentler now.
The question just… hung there. Thick in the air like fog.
Without another word, Tim stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Then he bent slightly and carried her up into the car bridal-style—surprising her completely.
"Tim!" she gasped, voice muffled by his shoulder.
"You're shaking," he whispered. "You don't have to act so strong."
He set her on the back seat gently.
Outside, the woods grew darker.
"im sory"flew put of her mouth directly to his ears.
Tim blinked, still stunned. "You're... sorry?" he asked softly, like the word didn't belong to her.
Sam looked away, biting her lower lip. "I just... I didn't mean to ruin your night," she muttered, arms wrapping around herself as the chilly wind swept through the woods around them.
He took a step closer. "You didn't ruin anything," he said, but there was something tight in his voice. Something unspoken.
The woods around them felt alive—rustling leaves, the occasional screech of a bat, and the distant hoot of an owl. Even the moon seemed to dim behind the clouds as tension wrapped around the broken-down car like fog.
Suddenly, Sam's phone buzzed again in her pocket.
She jumped.
Tim noticed. "You sure that's nothing?" he asked, his voice lower now, more serious.
Sam hesitated. "It's just... someone from my ... I'll handle it later."
But her hand trembled slightly as she silenced the phone without even looking at the screen.
Tim didn't believe her—but he didn't press. Instead, he turned and opened the car door. "Come on. It's too cold out here. Let's wait inside."
She nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. Tim followed, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Only the soft hum of the night surrounded them.
Then Tim leaned his head back against the seat. "Do you trust me?" he asked suddenly, not looking at her.
Sam stiffened.
"I…" she started, but the words caught in her throat.
"Because if something's going on, Sam…" His voice trailed off. "I need to know. Before it's too late."
Outside, the trees swayed like shadows watching them.
Inside the car, silence fell heavy.
And in the darkness, someone else was watching too.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a shadow darted from the trees.
Before either of them could react, the back door of the car was yanked open—and a man in a black hoodie lunged forward, a glint of silver flashing in his hand.
"Tim!" Sam screamed, but it was too late.
The man drove the knife forward, straight into Tim's side—just below his ribs.
It wasn't a quick jab. It was deep, forceful, and violent.
The blade cut through layers of skin and muscle, the sound wet and sickening. Tim gasped, eyes wide, as the pain hit him all at once. His body jerked, his hands instantly going to the wound, but blood was already soaking through his shirt.
He staggered back, hitting the side of the car with a thud, eyes locked on the attacker in disbelief.
"Run!" he choked out to Sam, voice broken.
But she was frozen, her hands trembling, her scream caught in her throat.
The man looked at her next.
The knife, dripping red, still clutched in his hand.