Jace's house stood in darkness. Only a faint sliver of light flickered near the door—like an eye struggling to stay shut.
We stepped out of Oliver's car, and the moment my feet touched the ground, I saw it. A thin trail of blood stretched from the doorstep inward. A red line twisted along the floor like a warning. It shimmered—too fresh to be forgotten.
Terror crashed through me in waves. Each step dragged me further from Abigail. From her—and from the hope that had held me up until now.
We stepped inside, not into a home, but into a collapse.
The silence wasn't peaceful. The furniture was overturned. A door hung crooked on its hinge. Every corner whispered of a struggle—loud, violent, desperate.
Something inside me whispered, "Allison hid." She saw everything.
On the floor—a wrinkled pink blanket. Hers. Just moments ago, she was supposed to be curled up on it, drifting off to sleep. But now… she is gone.
We moved from room to room. Searching.
Then—a bang. A door slammed upstairs. My breath caught.
Another step revealed a small toy lying beside an overturned armchair—Allison's. My throat clenched.
And then—we found her.
Abigail. She lay on the floor, barely conscious. Drained. Blood smeared across her arms. Not much—but enough to stop my heart.
She was shaking—like a candle flickering in the wind, fighting not to go out. The strength I had always seen in her had shattered, fragile as a cracked doll.
I touched her hand gently. She flinched. Her skin was cold, as if sensation had already abandoned her.
"Amilia," she whispered. My name broke on her lips like something fractured. Relief curled around her like a child who had finally found someone she recognized.
"Abigail…" I murmured, kneeling beside her—but Oliver was already lifting her.
And his eyes… He looked as if he'd seen this before it happened. Fear blazed in them louder than any words. His hand trembled. For the first time, maybe, I saw him shake.
He carried her out, cradling her carefully. I stayed behind for one last look.
She was covered in shards of glass. There was a crooked door in sight. The scent of fear is thick in the air.
What happened here? Where is she?
I didn't stop it. I didn't get there in time. Something inside me began to accept it: it had already happened. The chance was gone. Again.
How many times can you fail the people who love you most?
I hurried outside. Abigail sat hunched in Oliver's car. Shoulders shaking, eyes dimmed—almost extinguished.
I froze.
Oliver stood silently, but something fierce burned in his gaze.
"Where's Allison?" I asked, stepping closer.
Abigail's eyes were cloudy. She wasn't fully here. Her body had returned—but her soul was still trapped in that moment when everything changed.
"I… I don't remember," she whispered, her voice hollow and lost.
Something twisted inside me. I knew she'd just walked through hell. But we didn't have time.
Still… in my bones, I felt the truth: we weren't late. We were already at the end.
"Try to remember," I urged softly. "You know how important this is."
She closed her eyes, as if searching for herself.
"No… not now. Please answer me…" My voice was barely a breath, meant only for me.
She swallowed. Her lips were frozen. But then—something flickered in her eyes. Recognition. Fear.
"… He took her."
My entire body froze. My heart refused to process what my mind already knew.
That voice. That stillness. I had already heard them in my dreams.
There was no need to ask whom she meant. The word itself was enough.
I turned to Oliver.
His gaze locked with mine. Unblinking.
Before I could speak, he whispered, "Don't be afraid. We'll find her."
"You still think my visions weren't real?" I asked, my voice sharp as a blade.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence conveyed everything.
The nightmare wasn't over. It was just changing faces.
And this time… the face was one we already knew.