The Devil's Bargain

Shadows Beneath the Surface

The sun was high by the time Kristina finally returned inside, her body warmed by the soft morning light, but her mind still clouded by the strange dream. The quiet of the mansion pressed in around her, broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards or the distant hum of wind through the rafters. Everything felt heavy here, as if the walls themselves held their breath, waiting for something—or someone. She couldn’t shake the sensation that something was out of place, that there were pieces to this house’s puzzle still eluding her.

Kristina busied herself with simple tasks, anything to distract her from the pull of the east wing. She swept the already spotless floors, polished the brass fixtures, and scrubbed the windows until the glass gleamed. But no matter how much she tried to occupy her hands, her mind kept drifting back to Blake and the forbidden part of the mansion that he had warned her to stay away from.

Blake Blackwood. The man was a contradiction wrapped in mystery—his charm laced with something darker, something that unsettled her even as it intrigued her. His cold demeanor the previous night still stung, his words a sharp reminder that she was treading on dangerous ground. And yet, there was something about him that called to her, something that her dream had only heightened.

The dream. She tried to dismiss it as a product of her imagination, but the vividness of it lingered in her mind. The way Blake had looked at her, the feel of his touch, the haunting whispers of the mansion itself—it all felt too real to ignore. It was as if the house was trying to tell her something, show her something. But what?

She had to know more. She had to uncover what Blake was hiding.

As she dusted a bookshelf in the sitting room, her eyes drifted toward the east wing again. It was always there, in the back of her mind, beckoning her. The more she tried to resist, the stronger the pull became. Kristina knew she couldn’t stay away forever. Blake had made it clear that the east wing was off-limits, but why? What was so dangerous, so forbidden, that he had to keep it hidden?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Kristina froze, her hand pausing mid-dust as she listened. The footsteps were slow, deliberate, moving closer. She glanced at the clock—it was still early, too early for Blake to be awake. Her pulse quickened as she turned toward the doorway.

Blake appeared in the entrance, his expression unreadable as always, but his eyes—those stormy gray eyes—held an intensity that made her heart race. He looked different today, more composed, less cold. The tension from last night seemed to have dissipated, replaced by something else, something she couldn’t quite place.

"Kristina," he said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine. "You’ve been up for a while, I see."

She swallowed hard, wiping her hands on the cleaning rag. "I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get some work done."

His gaze lingered on her, sharp and assessing. "I’ve told you before, there’s no need to work so hard. This house can be… overwhelming."

Kristina nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. "It helps me clear my mind."

Blake stepped into the room, his presence commanding. He seemed to take up more space than was possible, and yet he moved with a quiet grace that unnerved her. He glanced around the sitting room, taking in the polished surfaces and the gleaming windows.

"You’ve done a fine job," he remarked, his tone almost casual. "But don’t let the house consume you."

There was something in his voice, a warning beneath the surface, and Kristina couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking about more than just the housework.

"Is there something you need?" she asked, trying to deflect the conversation.

Blake’s eyes flicked back to her, narrowing slightly. "I wanted to talk to you about last night."

Her breath hitched. "Last night?"

"The east wing," he said, his tone firm. "I saw you near the door."

Kristina’s heart thudded in her chest. Had he seen her try to open it? Had he been watching her the whole time? She struggled to keep her face neutral, her fingers twisting nervously in the cleaning rag.

"I—I was just curious," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn’t going to go in."

Blake’s expression darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might lash out at her. But instead, he remained silent, his gaze boring into hers. The tension between them thickened, the air charged with unspoken words.

"The east wing is not for you," he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. "I warned you once, Kristina. Don’t make me warn you again."

Her stomach churned at the finality in his tone, but a spark of defiance flared within her. Why couldn’t she know what was hidden there? What was he so afraid of her discovering?

Before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. "What are you hiding, Blake?"

His eyes flickered with something dark and dangerous, but he didn’t answer right away. He took a step closer, his towering form casting a shadow over her. Kristina’s heart pounded as he loomed over her, his presence suffocating.

"You don’t want to know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"I think I do."

Blake’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Curiosity can be deadly in a place like this."

Kristina shivered at the coldness in his voice, but she refused to back down. "I don’t believe that. I think you’re hiding something from me, something I have a right to know."

Blake’s expression hardened, and for a moment, she thought he might push her away, dismiss her like he had the night before. But instead, he surprised her. He leaned in, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin.

"There are things in this house, Kristina," he whispered, his voice low and menacing. "Things you can’t even begin to understand. Stay away from the east wing, or you’ll regret it."

She swallowed hard, her pulse racing as his words sank in. Blake’s warning echoed in her mind, but the fire in her chest only grew stronger. If anything, his cryptic threats only fueled her determination.

Blake pulled away, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her standing alone in the suffocating silence. Kristina’s hands trembled as she gripped the rag, her mind spinning with questions.

What was Blake so desperate to keep hidden? And why did it feel like the house itself was urging her to find out?

The shadows seemed to close in around her as she stood there, her resolve hardening with each passing second. Blake’s warnings only made her more determined. She wouldn’t let him scare her away, not now. Not when she was so close to uncovering the truth.

She would go back to the east wing. But this time, she wouldn’t stop at the door.

This time, she would find out exactly what Blake was hiding.