The next morning hit too damn fast. Sunlight sliced through the blinds, harsh and unforgiving. Emma had already bounced for class, leaving behind a note and a half-empty mug of tea on the counter. She’d warmed up some leftover pizza in the microwave from yesterday — the one thing I hadn’t bothered to eat after that brutal shift. I grabbed the cold slice, shoved it in my mouth, and threw my bag over my shoulder. Today was assignment day.
Kai was waiting for me in the lobby after my last class around 4 pm. I had a morning shift, which meant the whole damn evening was mine.
The cab pulled up late, driver barely looking at me as I climbed in. Kai texted the address, and I stared at it like it was supposed to mean something. It didn’t. I had no clue where she lived. Just knew she dragged herself to campus every day, quiet and unreadable.
Honestly I expected something small. Cramped. Maybe an apartment she shared with a sister or a cousin or someone she never talked about. A half-hour out, bleeding her dry with every rent check.
Kai didn’t say much in the cab honestly I too didn't try to fill in the silence. she stared out the window like she wasn’t here at all.
At first, it was the usual — rows of run-down apartments, corner stores with flickering signs, the kind of places where everything felt secondhand and half-asleep. I figured we’d stop somewhere in the thick of it. But we didn’t.
The cab kept going.
The buildings started thinning out. More trees. Fewer people. The roads got quieter — like we’d left the city behind without meaning to. I glanced at Kai, but she was unreadable, earbuds in, arms crossed like this was normal.
But it wasn’t normal. Not anymore.
We passed a gate — old iron, slightly crooked — and the cab turned in without hesitation. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as the trees got taller, denser, like they were hiding something. Then the house came into view.
It was huge. Alone. Set back in a way that made it look like it had chosen to be isolated.
Like it didn’t want to be found.
Too huge. Too quiet.
And somehow, exactly like Kai — impossible to ignore, a little intimidating, and probably hiding too many secrets behind those walls.
I leaned forward slightly, squinting through the windshield. The house didn’t look new. It was the kind of place with history etched into its walls — maybe even something darker. Three stories, wide windows that reflected more than they revealed, and a porch that looked like it hadn’t heard laughter in a long time.
The cab slowed to a stop.
Kai still hadn’t said a word. Just unplugged her earbuds, tossed them in her bag, and opened the door like we hadn’t just pulled up to the set of a psychological thriller.
“You coming or what?” she asked, already halfway out.
I hesitated. My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag like that was going to do anything.
“Yeah,” I muttered, more to myself than her. “Sure.”
The air outside was cooler than I expected — quieter too. Like even the wind was holding its breath. I followed her up the path, gravel crunching under my shoes. There were no neighbors in sight. Just trees and that damn house watching us approach.
Kai punched in a code at the second gate. Not a key. A code.
Right.
Inside job, I reminded myself. She probably lived with rich relatives. Maybe she was a caretaker. Or this was a weird boarding situation she didn’t talk about.
I didn’t ask.
The front door creaked open before she even touched it. I don’t know if that was the wind or something else, but I felt it — that tight, invisible grip around my ribs, like the house was already reaching for me.
She stepped inside like it was nothing.
I stood there a second longer, looking up at the house that didn’t belong to anyone I knew, didn’t fit anything I expected of her. Then I stepped in after her.
The door clicked shut behind me.
The house swallowed me whole the moment I stepped through the door. High ceilings, dark wood floors, and shadows pooling in the corners like they had stories to keep. The place smelled faintly of sandalwood and something sharp—like the kind of scent that lingers after a night you wish you could forget.
She moved through the space with that effortless grace she always had, like this was her kingdom and every inch belonged to her. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said, voice low, teasing as I sat down.
The scent that hit me was oddly familiar. I couldn’t place it, but it tugged at something deep—like a ghost I’d met in a past life or a memory just out of reach. Like déja vu.
Then heels clicked sharply from the kitchen, demanding attention. I spun toward the sound. A woman stepped out—early forties, sharp and poised, with Kai’s same dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. She moved with a slow, deliberate confidence, a body that owned every inch of the tight dress hugging her curves.
“Mom,” Kai said smoothly, voice casual but with an edge I didn’t quite catch. “This is Zara. The girl I told you about.”
Was I already a topic of conversation in this house? I thought we’d have the place to ourselves. A warning would’ve been nice. Maybe then I’d have thrown on something better—something worth this kind of audience.
“Good evening, ma’am,” I said, rising to my feet, trying to keep my voice steady beneath the sudden heat creeping up my neck.
The woman’s eyes flicked over me, sharp and assessing, like she was weighing every inch of me — my clothes, my posture, the way I didn’t quite meet her gaze. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Good evening." The woman’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer before she turned toward Kai with a slight smirk.
"You girls like something to drink?” Her voice was smooth, but there was an edge beneath it—like she was testing the waters, seeing how I’d respond.
Kai glanced at me, her eyes sharp and unreadable. I could feel the weight of that unspoken question passing between us.
“Something light would be good,” Kai replied coolly, not taking her eyes off me.
I swallowed, nodding along. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Hey, Sarah! I’m telling you, I checked the perimeter—there—”
A woman’s voice rang out from the stairs, loud and commanding, but the second she caught sight of me, her words died.
She paused, hand still on the railing, then slowly descended with the grace of someone who liked to be looked at.
She looked like the kind of woman who turned heads without trying — and made people regret it when they stared too long. Tall. Barefoot. Hair pulled back in a way that said I don’t need effort to outshine you. Her satin robe clung to her like it had been tailored for drama, deep red with a slit that flashed one long leg as she came down, slow and smooth, like she had all the time in the world.
She wasn’t young, but she didn’t seem to care. There was something ageless about her — sharp cheekbones, wine-dark lipstick, and eyes that made you feel like you were already on the back foot. She didn’t blink much. Didn’t smile either.
Her gaze slid from Kai’s mom — who looked suddenly smaller — to Kai, and then landed hard on me, like she was trying to decide whether I was a threat, a guest, or just another problem she hadn’t authorized.
“I didn’t realize we had guests,” she said, like I’d tracked dirt into her clean hallway just by existing.
“Helen, this is Zara. Kai’s friend,” Kai’s mom said smoothly. But I could tell from her tone she was trying to keep something under the surface.
Friend. That word.
I stood there, awkward and way too aware of how tight my jeans suddenly felt. Was I supposed to say something else? Compliment her? Offer a blood sample?
“Good evening, ma’am,” I said, keeping it safe.
Helen walked right up to me and extended her hand. I reached out and took it — maybe too politely — and then… her hand didn’t let go. It just stayed there, firm, warm, intentional. Her stare locked on mine, unreadable but intense. Like she was trying to figure out what exactly I was doing here — in this house, in her presence, next to Kai.
I just came for the assignment that's all.
“Helen,” Kai’s mom called sharply, snapping her out of it.
She finally let go of my hand, but not without a half-smile that felt like it meant nothing and everything at the same time.
I swallowed. My throat was dry. This wasn’t just “meeting the family.” This was starting to feel like some strange culty horror film — only I hadn’t read the script, and there were too many beautiful women with secrets.
Kai cleared her throat. “Aunt, is Nathan around? He promised to drive her back home.”
I already had a driver. Definitely luxury — not that I was complaining.
“No, he went out. He’ll be back shortly,” Helen said, eyes still on me for one heartbeat too long.
So… Aunt Helen. Definitely the type to own a hidden knife collection and smile while doing it.
“Is Dad around?” Kai asked, her voice low but steady.
“No,” her mom said, clipped and unreadable.
“Can we use his study?” Kai asked, not quite looking at her.
A beat of silence. Like even asking was dangerous.
“You can,” Kai’s mom replied, already sounding tired, “but I don’t want to find it messy. And don’t touch anything. You know how your dad is with his stuff.”
“Okay, thanks,” Kai said quickly, grabbing my wrist like we needed to get out of there.
I followed her without hesitation.
“I’ll get you girls something to drink,” Kai’s mom offered from the kitchen.
“And Kai,” she called just as we were halfway down the hall, “no messing with things in there.”
There was a weight behind her voice. Like it wasn’t the first time she’d said that — and maybe not the first time Kai ignored it.
The moment Kai shut the study room door behind us, the quiet felt too quiet.
Like the house was listening.
It smelled like old leather and something slightly spicy — expensive cologne that clung to the air like it had been worn into the walls. The room wasn’t huge, but it felt packed — mahogany shelves with dustless books, a glass globe by the window, a sleek desk that screamed look but don’t touch.
Kai let go of my wrist, finally, and walked over to the desk like she knew exactly where everything was. Like she’d been here before — and maybe not just to study.
I stood by the door for a second, letting everything sink in. The lingering scent of her aunt’s perfume still clung to my sleeve. My heart hadn’t stopped racing since that woman had stared me down like I was a new toy someone brought to the wrong party.
Kai leaned her hips against the desk and looked at me, her expression unreadable now. She was calm in a way that made me feel unsteady — like whatever came next, she’d already played it out in her head.
“You okay?” she asked.
I blinked. “Your family’s… intimidating.”
A laugh slipped out of her, low and rough. “Yeah. That’s one word for it.”
I walked further in, letting my fingers trail along the edge of a shelf. “So… this is your dad’s study?”
“Mhm,” she nodded. “He doesn’t let people in here. Mom wasn’t kidding earlier — if he finds even one pen moved from its place, he’ll lose it.”
“You can sit,” she said, nodding at the couch. “He doesn’t bite. He just thinks touching the remote changes the universe.”
I gave a small smile and sat, tucking my legs in. My hands fiddled with the edge of the cushion. Kai moved like someone used to being watched — not performing, not hiding — just aware. You could stare at her and she’d barely blink.
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