The next morning, the world outside was wrapped in mist. Grey clouds hung low over the estate, blurring the trees, muting the sunrise.
Aria stood at the edge of the greenhouse. It looked more haunted than ever—overgrown vines crawling up shattered glass, twisted metal beams bent like bones. She hadn't been back here since Amara's funeral.
Or... whatever that had been.
Xander trailed behind her, arms folded. He was quiet. Watching. Always watching.
"She used to come here to hide from my father," Aria said softly. "He hated this place. Said it was useless and ugly."
"Then it probably made her feel safe," Xander replied.
She glanced back at him. For once, his tone wasn't mocking.
Aria stepped over the threshold, her boots crunching glass. The air smelled like damp earth and decay. Like memories that hadn't been aired out in years.
"I used to think this was the last place she was happy," Aria murmured. "Before everything turned cold."
They reached the back corner of the greenhouse, where ivy had almost completely swallowed the brick wall. Something shimmered in the mess of vines—a bit of metal.
Aria pulled the ivy back, and her breath hitched.
A door.
Small, rusted. Hidden perfectly.
Xander's brow furrowed. "You ever seen this before?"
"No." She shook her head. "Never."
She reached for the handle, but Xander caught her wrist.
"Let me go first."
She didn't argue.
He tugged the door open, revealing a set of narrow stone stairs leading into darkness.
Of course there was a secret passage. Of course Amara had hidden more than anyone realized.
"Stay close," Xander said.
Aria followed him down, heart hammering. The stairs smelled like mold and forgotten things. But as they reached the bottom, a faint light glowed at the end of the corridor.
A single bulb. Flickering.
And beneath it—dusty furniture, a half-burnt candle, a wall of notes and photographs pinned to rotting wallpaper.
Aria stepped forward, stunned.
Every photo was of her.
Her… and Xander.
And a note scribbled in red ink:"If they find this, it's already too late."