-Sloane Delgado:
The stairs creaked under my feet as I made my way down, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. The house looked different in daylight—less ominous, but still suffocating in its perfection. The kind of place that gleamed not from warmth, but from control.
I'd been here before, more times than I could count, back when I was still naïve enough to think Roxy's world was just dangerous enough to be thrilling, not deadly. Yet somehow, I still got lost in this house. There were too many hallways, too many turns, too many doors that looked identical. It was easy to forget where you were—or who you were—inside it.
Now, apparently, it was my house too.
The thought made me wince. The words didn't feel real. They slid through my mind like oil—impossible to hold onto without wanting to wash them off.
