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𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐁𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐋𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬
...💫...
𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑆𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐿𝑉𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟒
✨ | 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 | ✨
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧.
Ariella rubbed her arms through the flannel as she trudged down the creaky staircase. Lincoln walked beside her, stifling a yawn, his dark hair sticking up at odd angles. Valerie followed close behind, her curls barely restrained in a messy bun, her expression tight with curiosity. Their dad was already at the basement door, his shoulders tense beneath his usual black hoodie.
"Why couldn't this wait until later?" Ariella muttered under her breath. Her words were meant for Lincoln, but the edge in her tone carried.
"Ask him," Lincoln said, jerking his thumb toward their dad.
His gaze cut back sharply. "You'll understand soon enough. Just trust me for once."
Ariella clamped her mouth shut, swallowing a retort. Trust was not something their dad had made easy over the last several months, especially when Ariella realized he had lied to them for years. He motioned them closer, punching a code into a hidden keypad behind a stack of old books. With a soft hiss, the wooden door swung inward to reveal a cold, gray metal one behind it.
"What is this?" Valerie asked, her voice hushed.
"You'll see," he replied, typing in another code.
The metallic click of locks disengaging echoed, followed by a low mechanical whir as the heavy door slid open, revealing a staircase that descended into shadows.
"You're kidding, right?" Ariella said, frowning at the darkness below.
Their dad didn't answer, just gestured for them to follow. Lincoln rolled his eyes but started down first. Valerie hesitated before sighing and trailing after him. Ariella lingered at the top, her skin prickling. This felt...wrong.
"You coming?" Dad asked, his voice carrying an edge.
With a steadying breath, she followed. The steps were cool under her bare feet, the air growing colder the deeper they went. Lights flickered to life as they descended, one by one, until they reached the bottom.
Ariella froze.
The room that stretched before her was massive, the size of a warehouse tucked beneath their unassuming home. A boxing ring dominated the center, surrounded by padded mats. Training equipment lined the walls, sleek and intimidating. But it wasn't the gym that had her throat tightening—it was the man sitting in the ring, his blond hair catching the stark fluorescent light.
