It had been three months since Hal turned to ash in Ace's living room.Three months since Sarah drove the silver dagger into the chest of something that once wore a man's face.Three months since she and Ace escaped the haunted ruins of their past.
They moved into a new house, deeper in the woods—Ace's idea. Somewhere untouched. Somewhere nameless. The silence here was complete. No neighbors. No traffic. No history.
But peace, Sarah learned, was not a gift. It was a loan.
And tonight, it felt like someone was coming to collect.
The clock read 3:16 AM. She lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, fingers curled tight in the blanket. The air was cold. Colder than it should be. She swore she could see her breath when she exhaled.
Ace stirred beside her. "You're doing it again."
Sarah flinched. "Doing what?"
"Listening for something that isn't there."
She turned on her side. His eyes were open now, watching her. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver lines across his face. The scars on his left shoulder caught the light like faint rivers.
"It's not nothing," she whispered. "It's... quiet. But not the right kind."
Ace reached over, laced his fingers with hers. "It's the woods. You grew up with city noise."
She shook her head. "No. I know this kind of quiet. I heard it the night Hal came back."
His fingers tightened.
Outside, the wind moved through the trees. Slow. Careful.
"I had a dream," Sarah said. "Not about Hal."
Ace waited.
"It was... me," she continued. "But not. She stood in the mirror. Her eyes were like mine—but empty. Like something was hollowed out and filled with cold."
Ace didn't speak.
"She said something," Sarah added. "She said, You buried him, but you kept me."
The silence thickened. Not awkward. Not unsure.
Terrified.
Ace sat up and pushed his hand through his hair. "Tell me everything."
So she did. The dream. The girl in the mirror. The sudden sense of being watched—even when Ace was beside her. The flickers of movement in the corner of her eye. The scent of soil in the walls. The way her own reflection lagged sometimes.
When she was done, Ace stood and crossed to the closet.
Sarah sat up in bed. "What are you doing?"
He pulled down a worn black bag. The same one he'd used the night Hal died.
"Preparing," he said.
"For what?"
He turned toward her slowly. "For the part they never tell you about."
Sarah frowned. "What part?"
Ace's voice was low. Firm. "When you kill a monster… and something worse takes its place."