Elena felt her chest tighten as the weight of Miles's words settled around her. Her father—part of the cult? A willing participant in the summoning of the Hollow Man? The idea was unfathomable. Every memory she had of him—his laugh, his quiet strength, his protective nature—flashed through her mind like a series of snapshots. None of it made sense. She couldn't reconcile the man she'd loved with the dark, twisted figure Miles had just described.
"Tell me this isn't true," Elena whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Miles didn't answer right away. He just sat there, his eyes clouded with regret, the weight of the past pressing down on both of them. Finally, he leaned forward, his fingers drumming lightly on the counter.
"I wish it weren't, Elena. I wish it were just some sick rumor. But I've seen it. I've seen the symbols, the rituals... the scars on people who've tried to leave. Your father... he was a part of something much bigger than any of us understood. And I didn't know how to protect you from it."
Her heart pounded in her chest, like a drumbeat in her ears, threatening to drown out everything else. "What… what do you mean, scars?"
Miles looked away, his gaze drifting toward the window, as if the town itself was listening. "People who were part of the rituals—the ones who didn't die—were marked. Physically. Their skin, their blood, their soul. It was like... a tattoo. A brand. Something that connected them to him."
Elena's stomach lurched, a cold sweat breaking out across her skin. She had never noticed anything like that on her father. But the thought of a mark, something invisible until now, made her blood run cold.
"Is that why you said I was a target?" she asked, her voice shaking with the effort to keep control. "Because of that... mark?"
Miles met her gaze, his expression grim. "Yes. And because of your bloodline. You're his heir, Elena. The Hollow Man—the one who haunts these woods—isn't just a spirit or a monster. He's a being, a force. And he needs someone to be the anchor, to bring him back into the physical world. Someone with your blood."
Her head spun. "But I don't—"
"You don't know what you are yet. But he does." Miles stood, his voice rising with urgency. "And Dorian knows everything. He's been watching you, waiting. You think he just showed up because of some random curiosity? No. He's been tracking you. He's here because it's time. Time for the ritual. Time for the final sacrifice."
Elena's mind was a whirlpool of confusion and fear, pulling her deeper with every word. She wanted to scream, to run, to get out of here, to pretend none of this was real. But the truth was like a noose tightening around her throat.
Dorian. The killer. The force behind all the disappearances. He wasn't just stalking her. He was hunting her. For her blood.
"Dorian wants me dead," she muttered, barely recognizing the words leaving her mouth.
"No," Miles corrected sharply. "Dorian doesn't want you dead. He wants you alive. He needs you alive. You're the key to the whole thing, Elena. Without you, the ritual can't happen."
The door to the diner opened again, and Elena's heart skipped a beat. Her first thought was that Dorian had come back, but it wasn't him. Instead, it was another figure from her past. A woman, tall, with dark hair and a long coat, stepping into the diner like she belonged there.
Elena froze.
The woman's eyes flicked over to her immediately. Something about the woman's face—her sharp features, her knowing expression—was unsettling. She was familiar, but Elena couldn't place her. The woman gave a small smile, as if she knew everything about Elena, everything about her past.
"Elena Gray," the woman said, her voice smooth like silk. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
Miles stood up abruptly. "How the hell did you get in here?"
The woman didn't even glance at him, her gaze fixed solely on Elena. "You've been hiding from it for so long, haven't you? Your family's legacy. The truth. It's time to stop running."
Elena felt the blood drain from her face. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled, her eyes gleaming with something far too knowing. "I'm your mother's sister, Elena. Your aunt."
The word hung in the air like a sharp blade. Elena's jaw dropped, the room around her spinning. Her mother had a sister? A sister she had never heard of? A sister who had been… involved in this?
"You've been kept in the dark for so long," the woman continued, her voice soft but firm. "But it's time you learned everything. Time to understand your place in all of this."
Elena felt a coldness seep into her bones as the truth began to unravel, layer by layer. Her family wasn't what she thought it was. The man she had loved—her father—hadn't been the protector she believed him to be. And now, her aunt was standing in front of her, the missing piece to the puzzle, the piece that would complete her connection to the nightmare she had tried to escape.
"Your blood," the woman whispered, her gaze darkening, "has always been the answer. And now… it's time for you to claim your destiny."
Elena felt her knees go weak. "No. I don't want any part of this."
But her aunt only smiled, a cold, calculating smile. "It's too late for that, my dear. The Hollow Man is already here. And he won't stop until he has you."
And with those words, Elena realized the truth that had been hidden from her for so long: she was not just a victim of Black Hollow's dark legacy. She was the key to it.