The Eyes On Me

Chapter 23: The Ghost at the Door

The air in the room was suffocating, thick with the weight of unspoken fears and the past clawing its way back to the present. Zane stood by the window, his silhouette barely visible in the faint light as he scanned the outside for any sign of movement.

I was still crouched behind the couch, heart thudding in my chest, trying to calm the tremble in my hands. My mind raced, replaying the flashbacks of Ethan—the man I thought I knew, but who now haunted every corner of my life.

The more I thought about him, the more the lines between affection and obsession blurred. And the more terrified I became of what he wanted.

Suddenly, Zane’s voice broke through the tension, a low, urgent whisper. "Stay here. Don’t move."

Before I could protest, he slipped out the back door, moving like a shadow, disappearing into the night.

The room felt even colder without him, the silence now deafening. Every creak of the house, every whisper of wind outside sent shivers down my spine.

I clenched my hands together, trying to steady myself. I couldn’t just sit here, waiting for something—someone—to come for me. My eyes darted toward the journal on the table, the one Zane had found in my grandmother’s things.

Something in that journal held answers, connections to the past that I needed to understand if I was going to survive this.

I moved cautiously toward the table, every step slow and deliberate. The floor beneath me groaned, and I froze, heart hammering in my throat. But nothing followed. The house was still.

Grabbing the journal, I flipped it open, scanning through the pages, desperate to find something—anything—that would make sense of the chaos around me.

Then I heard it.

A soft knock at the front door.

I froze, my blood turning to ice. My pulse quickened as I stared at the door, heart racing with a mixture of dread and anticipation. It couldn’t be Zane—he would never knock.

Another knock.

I swallowed hard, inching closer to the door, fear gnawing at my insides.

"Zane?" I called out softly, praying it was him, though deep down, I knew it wasn’t.

Silence. Then, a voice I hadn’t heard in what felt like years, yet recognized instantly.

"Emilia," Ethan’s voice floated through the door, calm and familiar, yet laced with something darker. "I know you’re in there. I just want to talk."

I backed away, my stomach twisting into knots. The door rattled as he tried the handle. "Let me in, Emilia," he coaxed, his voice too smooth, too controlled. "I only want to help."

I stood frozen, torn between the urge to flee and the gnawing curiosity that still clung to me. What did he want? What was he going to do? And where was Zane?

As if reading my thoughts, Ethan’s voice lowered, almost a whisper. "He can’t protect you, you know. Zane doesn’t understand what’s coming for you. But I do. I always have."

My breath caught in my throat, panic rising like a tidal wave. I glanced toward the back door, praying Zane would reappear, but there was only darkness.

Then, a loud crash erupted from the front of the house. The door splintered as Ethan forced his way in, his shadow stretching across the room as he stepped inside.

Our eyes met, and in that moment, I saw the man I once trusted—the man who now terrified me. Ethan smiled, but it wasn’t warm. It was predatory.

"I told you," he murmured, taking a step toward me, "I’ve always been watching."

Before I could scream, before I could run, the darkness swallowed us both.

And Zane was nowhere to be found.