Blood Ties

Whispers in the Dark

The storm refused to relent, battering the cabin as though it were determined to strip away its secrets. Gabriel stood on the porch, rain soaking his hair and seeping through his jacket, scanning the tree line for any sign of movement. The forest stood silent, heavy with the eerie stillness that followed a warning. He could feel Eve's eyes on his back, her presence a hot coal against the chill that seeped into his bones.

When he stepped back inside and shut the door, Eve was already pacing, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She stopped when she saw him, searching his face for answers he didn't have.

"Nothing?" she asked, though her voice lacked hope.

He shook his head, droplets of rain scattering onto the floor. "No tracks, no sign of anyone." His eyes found hers, the shared tension drawing a taut line between them. "Whoever knocked knew what they were doing."

Eve pressed her lips together, and he could see the wheels turning in her mind, the logical dissection of their circumstances that she defaulted to when things went wrong. "It has to be someone who knows this place," she said, glancing toward the attic staircase. "Someone who's familiar with us. Our families."

Gabriel's jaw tightened as a memory surfaced—one of whispered warnings from his father late at night, stories of blood debts and sins buried deep within their lineage. He'd always dismissed them as the ramblings of a man too fond of his whiskey. Now, they felt like breadcrumbs to a truth he was reluctant to uncover.

"Your brother," Eve said suddenly, the name she'd never spoken in front of him hanging in the air like a specter. "He disappeared after a fight with your father, didn't he?"

The silence crackled like lightning between them. Gabriel's expression hardened, the mention of his brother a wound she'd sliced open without warning. "That has nothing to do with this," he bit out, though the doubt in his voice was enough for her to press further.

"Doesn't it?" Eve stepped forward, her face inches from his, eyes wide and fierce. "Your brother went missing. My aunt died under strange circumstances. Both our families are tied to this place, to whatever's been buried here. You can't tell me that's just a coincidence."

A flash of anger surged through him, a knee-jerk reaction born of pain and guilt. "What do you want me to say, Eve? That I know more than I'm letting on? That I've come back just to watch your family suffer?"

Her gaze didn't waver, but something softened in it, a recognition of shared wounds. "I want you to admit that we're not so different, Gabriel. That you've been just as caught in this web as I have."

For a heartbeat, the distance between them felt smaller, almost bearable. Then a crash echoed from upstairs, the sound of something heavy falling and splintering wood.

They both spun toward the attic staircase, Gabriel already moving, knife in hand. Eve followed, her pulse thundering in her ears, fear and adrenaline making her reckless. He paused at the base of the stairs, eyes flicking back to her.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. It wasn't a request.

"Not a chance," she countered, shoving past him to take the lead. The spark of defiance in her eyes would have made him smile if the situation were different.

The stairs groaned under their weight as they ascended, the cabin holding its breath with them. The door to the attic was ajar, swinging slightly on its hinges. Gabriel pushed it open, the creak loud enough to set his teeth on edge.

Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the lanterns that hung from the rafters, their flames flickering wildly in the draft. Boxes were scattered, their contents strewn across the floor—old letters, photographs, brittle and yellowed with age.

But it wasn't the mess that made them freeze. It was the writing scrawled across the far wall in dark, dripping letters: Blood remembers. Blood repays.

Eve's breath caught, and she felt Gabriel's hand close around her wrist, grounding her in the moment. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough.

They weren't just facing an enemy who knew them well—they were facing a legacy they could no longer ignore.