*The Lambert house felt wrong. The air was heavy, thick with something unseen, something waiting. The dim lighting flickered in and out, as though the walls themselves were breathing.

Josh Lambert stood in the living room, but it wasn’t him. His hands—strong, familiar hands that had once lifted his children into his arms—were now wrapped around Renai’s throat, squeezing the life out of her.

Her eyes bulged, her mouth gaping open as she choked, clawing at his wrists. She couldn’t scream. The pressure was too much.

And then—

A floorboard creaked.

Josh’s grip faltered for just a second. His head snapped up, his eyes black like an abyss. Kiara stood in the doorway, frozen.

The second she had stepped inside, she felt it—the wrongness, the way the house itself seemed to pulse with something unnatural. It wasn’t just cold; it was empty, like something had hollowed it out from the inside.

And now she was standing face-to-face with it.

Her father. Or what used to be her father.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, but her voice was steady. “Dad?”

For a moment, Josh just stared. Then, something inside of him twitched. His expression shifted—like he was caught between two forces, one struggling to hold on, the other desperate to break free. His fingers flexed, shaking, and for a brief, agonizing second, she swore she saw fear in his eyes.

Then—his lips curled into a slow, twisted grin.

“Kiara,” he murmured, voice layered, distorted—two voices speaking at once. “You shouldn’t have come back.”

Renai coughed violently as she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. “Go,” she wheezed, gripping the carpet to steady herself. “Get out of here.”

Kiara didn’t move.

Her entire childhood had been shadowed by things her family refused to talk about. The whispers. The way shadows moved in the corners of her room. The nightmares that felt too real.

She had spent years pretending it wasn’t there.

But now, staring into the hollow eyes of the man who raised her, she couldn’t pretend anymore.*