Chapter 30
30
Cecely
I glance over my shoulder, pulse hammering. I don’t have much time. If this room exists, someone is going to come looking for it. For me.
I turn back to the screens. There has to be more than just live feeds. Files. Recordings. Logs. Something that tells me who is behind this.
I grab the nearest keyboard, typing quickly. A snort leaves my lips before I can stop it. Looks like Professor Quinn was wrong when she said we’d never have to use our cybersecurity skills in our own lives. That we’d only need to use them to take down criminals.
A menu pops up.
SECURITY ARCHIVE – ACCESS RESTRICTED
I bite my lip, fingers flying over the keys. If this is restricted, it means something’s hidden here, but people get sloppy and maybe there will be some kind of digital trail.
A few keystrokes later, a list appears. Hundreds of files. Names. Dates. Locations. I scroll down fast, scanning. Until I see it.
Gabriel Irons – FILE ENCRYPTED
My heart stops. He was being watched. Tracked. Logged. There’s another file.
Claudius Irons – STATUS: ACTIVE SURVEILLANCE
I swallow hard. Who the hell is running this? I pull up the next tab.
PRIVATE RECORDINGS
My stomach churns as I click it. A list of video files loads instantly. The most recent one?
SUBJECT: GAbrIEL – DATE: TWO DAYS AGO
Two days ago. Not one week. Not some distant past that makes sense.
This is now.
I click play.
The screen flickers, grainy at first, then clear. Claudius’ room. My breath catches. I’m there, sleeping in the bed. And Gabriel, he’s there too. Watching me. Standing in the shadows.
I feel sick. Because I know what happens next.
I watch as he leans in, hovering over me. As I stir. As I wake up. As I realize he’s there. The footage shows everything. Our conversation. The way he taunted me. The way I followed him to the balcony.
But then the footage changes. My stomach twists violently. Because I never knew what happened after he left. Until now. The screen flickers. The camera switches angles, tracking him.
And suddenly, I see where he went that night.
Not into the woods. Not off the island.
But somewhere else.
Somewhere inside the house.
My pulse hammers.
No.
No, no, no, no.
I don’t want to see this.
But I can’t stop watching.
The footage follows him down the hall, slipping through the shadows like a ghost.
Straight toward the kitchen, where I’m standing at the fridge.
The screen freezes and then goes blank.
And I’m left reeling. Because that’s the same night I thought I was talking to Claudius.
My fingers fly over the keyboard, looking for more clues. A hidden directory appears in single file.
UNKNOWN – RECOVERED FOOTAGE
My breath catches. I click it. The screen flickers, grainy and distorted. It’s the kitchen. The timestamp is the same night. I watch as I stand at the fridge, reaching for something. I watch as someone steps behind me. Tall. Broad-shouldered. A dark silhouette. I turn in the footage, smiling. But not in surprise. Not in fear.
I say something, but there’s no audio. The man steps forward, into the dim light. His features come into view. Dark eyes. Sharp jawline. Familiar smirk. My stomach plummets. It’s not Claudius. It was never Claudius.
It was Gabriel.
The screen flickers. Cuts to black.
My heart pounds.
I was with Gabriel that night. I kissed him. I touched him. I thought I was safe. But I was with a ghost. A dead man walking. And I never even knew it.
How many times has that happened?
A terrible thought crosses my mind. Was I ever even with Claudius?
I search for something. Anything that might help me solve this mystery.
SUBJECT: GAbrIEL – DATE: ONE WEEK AGO
I click it, needing to know what it says. But what I see doesn’t make sense. It’s the day the grave diggers were there. Where I watched Claudius break down. The footage starts right before Agnes shoves the needle in his neck. Why not before that?
I search more, finding another file with a similar timestamp.
SUBJECT: CLAUDIUS – DATE: ONE WEEK AGO
I hit play and watch as the scene unfolds, stopping at the same moment the tape about Gabriel begins. What does this mean?
No. This doesn’t make sense. The files don’t match up. Both labeled, both with different names. Gabriel and Claudius. But they cut off at the same moment.
The moment Agnes drugged Claudius.
I drag the timelines side by side, playing them simultaneously. Both show the same scene.
Claudius standing at the edge of the grave, broken.
The workers hesitating.
Agnes stepping in.
The needle plunging into his neck.
One tape ends.
The other keeps going.
I pause the videos, my fingers trembling as I rewind. Frame by frame. This doesn’t make sense.
I push away from the desk, standing too fast. My breath is shaky, my pulse erratic. I need to move. To think. To process.
I pace, but then something catches my eye.
A screen on the far right. It’s not like the others. It’s not a camera feed. It’s something else. Something alive. I freeze. Because it’s not just a feed. It’s a chat.
A live conversation happening right now. The screen flickers, the text rolling in, line after line. I take a step closer, sinking into the chair.
And then I read.
My stomach drops and a cold, sickening wave of horror rolls over me. Because the messages aren’t just disturbing. They’re vile. Dark. Twisted. Unforgivable.
User_001: This is going to be the biggest sale yet. Anyone else get a hard-on thinking about it?
Dom6969: Fuck yeah. I can’t wait to buy the prized filly and fuck her into a grave.
User_458: Not if I outbid you, which I will. When I do, her head will be the last thing detached from her body.
My hands shake. I scroll, my vision blurring as I read more. They’re talking about someone. About a woman. About what they want to do to her. The words make my skin crawl, my stomach churn. They’re talking about her like she’s a game. A toy. A thing.
User_001: Do you think she knows the sale has been pushed back?
Mr_Anderson: Doesn’t matter. Not like she has a say-so either way.
The chat freezes. A notification flashes at the bottom.
NEW PARTICIPANT JOINED.
My heart stops. A new message pops up.
Ghosty_Sees_You: You shouldn’t be here, Cecely.
I jerk back, a scream clawing up my throat. They know. They know I’m watching.
The screen flickers, and the chat disappears. The monitors cut to black. And then the basement lights go out, plunging me into total darkness.
I don’t move. Don’t breathe.
The basement is silent. Too silent. Like it’s holding its breath with me. The only sound is the thunderous pounding in my chest. Whoever sent that message… Whoever turned off the lights… They could be here. They could be watching me right now.
I squeeze my eyes shut, straining to listen. A sound. Faint. Something shifts. A whisper of movement against concrete. To my left. I fight the instinct to bolt. To run blindly into the darkness. Because that’s what they want, isn’t it? For me to panic. I lower my breathing or try to. The air feels heavier now. Like someone is right there. Just out of reach. Watching. Waiting. Deciding.
My fingers twitch. If I move too fast—too soon—they’ll hear me. They’ll know exactly where I am. So I do the only thing I can. I listen. I count the seconds. I wait for the next sound.
And then there’s another shift.
Closer.
Someone is here.
And they aren’t leaving.
The silence stretches. Every nerve in my body tightens. My breath is shallow. Then there’s a flicker. A weak, humming buzz. And suddenly, the emergency lights flare back on.
A dim, sickly glow floods the room. And I see him.
Claudius.
Standing just a few feet away. Watching me.
His face is unreadable. His dark eyes hold a storm I can’t decipher.
I exhale shakily, my pulse still hammering. “Jesus, Claudius, you scared the shit out of me.”
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move. He just stares. A muscle in his jaw tics. Like he’s holding something back.
My stomach twists.
Because something isn’t right.
I was just watching footage of him. Or maybe of Gabriel.
The realization slams into me.
Was the man in the footage actually him? Or was it his brother?
The thought makes my skin prickle.
Because now, standing here, staring at him… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m looking at the man I’ve been sleeping beside. Or if I’m staring at the ghost who’s been haunting me all along.
The silence drags.
Then, finally, Claudius tilts his head, his voice low.
“What exactly are you doing down here, Cecely?”
It hits me in that instant, what he said earlier to Mrs. Blanc.
Cecely with an e and not an i.
The words I spoke to Gabriel that night at Purple Panther Hideaway. Words I never said to Claudius.
I force my body to relax even though my pulse is racing. My mind is spinning.
Because I know.
I know.
I’ve been so blind. So stupid.
Gabriel didn’t just survive. He didn’t just come back. He never left. Because he was always here.
Because Claudius and Gabriel are the same person.
A slow, creeping horror sinks in. Every touch. Every whispered promise. Every moment of trust. I thought I was with Claudius. I thought I knew who he was. But I didn’t. I never did.
And now? Now I don’t know if I’ve been sleeping beside my lover. Or if I’ve been lying in bed with a monster.
I swallow hard, keeping my expression blank. I can’t let him see. Can’t let him know I figured it out.
His head tilts, watching me with sharp, assessing eyes.
“Are you okay? I asked what you’re doing down here.”
His voice is calm. Controlled. A test. He’s waiting to see what I say.
I let out a slow exhale, forcing a small smile.
“Looking for you.”
His eyes narrow. “Is that so?”
I nod, stepping closer just enough to move toward the desk. Toward the letter opener resting beside the keyboard.
He doesn’t notice. Or maybe he doesn’t care.
Because he’s already won, hasn’t he? Already played me for a fool.
My fingers curl around the handle. Cold. Smooth. Something real. Something to hold on to when everything else is a lie.
But I keep my voice light.
“I got lost,” I say. “And then the lights went out.”
His lips curve, but it’s not a smile. It’s something darker. Something that tells me he knows I’m lying. That he’s just waiting to see what I’ll do next.
And suddenly I know. This isn’t just about surviving. It’s about escaping. Before Gabriel—Claudius—whoever the hell he really is—decides I know too much.
He’s still watching me like a predator waiting to see if its prey will run or fight.
I choose to fight.
I move fast. A sharp lunge, my arm swinging up, aiming for his side, but he’s faster. His hand clamps around my wrist mid-swing, stopping the blade an inch from his ribs. Shit. A growl rumbles from his chest, low and dangerous. His grip tightens, pain lancing up my arm. My breath hitches, but I refuse to let go.
His gaze locks onto mine. Something unreadable. Something dark. And then he laughs. Like this is funny to him.
“There she is,” he murmurs.
My stomach plummets. Because that voice— It’s different. It’s not Claudius. Not the man I thought I knew. It’s someone else. Someone I should have seen all along.
His fingers twist, and suddenly the blade is wrenched from my grasp. My back hits the desk hard, the breath knocked from my lungs. He cages me in. Trapping me. The letter opener now resting between us, but in his hand. Not mine.
His other hand lifts, trailing a slow, deliberate touch down my jaw. I flinch.
“Poor mama,” he murmurs, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You just figured it out, didn’t you?” His smile grows. “Too bad you’re a little too late.”
I refuse to let him win. My knee jerks up, slamming into his ribs. A sharp grunt escapes him, but he barely stumbles. His grip tightens on the letter opener.
His eyes flash. Amused. Thrilled, even. It reminds me of the night in the woods. Fuck. How was I so blind?
Before I can react, he grabs me, spinning me around, twisting my arm behind my back. Pain flares, sharp and sudden. I gasp.
His lips hover against my ear. “You should’ve stayed sweet, Cecely. Now I have to remind you who’s in control.”
I won’t let this happen. I thrash, kick, anything?—
But he’s too strong.
He shoves me down against the desk, pressing me into the cold wood. The letter opener skims my throat. A warning. My body goes still, heart slamming against my ribs.
No.
No, no, no.
This can’t be how it ends.
To add insult to injury, something catches my eye on the floor next to the desk. A mask. A fucking Ghostface mask.
The letter opener presses hard against my neck.
This is it…
But Claudius lets out a sharp hiss, his body pressing against mine. I turn and see a syringe sticking out of his neck. His grip weakens. His body jerks once and then he crumples.
I shove him off me and stagger away, sucking in a breath.
Agnes stands behind him, her face unreadable. She just saved my life.
But before I can speak, she gives me a sharp, knowing look. “Run, dearie.”
I don’t hesitate. I turn and run. Because even as he collapses to the ground, I know this isn’t over. Not even close.