Aidan woke with a start, his body drenched in cold sweat.
His breath came in short, shallow gasps, his skin clammy as a suffocating dread wrapped around his chest. His eyes snapped open, darting around his darkened room.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it.
The unmistakable sensation of being watched sent a violent shiver down his spine. His pulse pounded in his ears as he lay frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe.
A dim red glow flickered through his window, casting jagged shadows across the walls. The intermittent flashes made his room appear distorted—objects stretching and shrinking with each pulse of light.
Then, he saw it.
A figure.
Standing near the door.
It didn't move. It didn't breathe.
Just stood there. Watching.
Aidan's heart stopped.
The figure was cloaked in shadow, its form barely distinguishable from the darkness of the room. But he could make out its head—bent at an unnatural angle, tilted so far to the side it looked as though the neck had snapped.
Aidan's breath hitched in his throat.
His muscles locked up, every cell in his body screaming at him to run, to move, to do something—
The figure twitched.
Then, in one jerky motion, it scurried backward—its limbs moving in a way no human's should.
Aidan lost it.
A strangled scream ripped from his throat as he shot up from the bed, stumbling back until his spine hit the freezing glass of the window. His hands scrabbled against it, his chest rising and falling in frantic, ragged gasps.
The thing scurried.
Like a cockroach caught in the light.
Aidan barely had time to process the movement before his door burst open, and a flood of warm yellow light washed over the room.
Lucas stood in the doorway, eyes wide with alarm, his hand still gripping the light switch. Behind him, Jared peered into the room, looking just as shaken.
"What the hell happened?" Lucas demanded, his voice sharp, frantic.
Aidan gulped in air, chest heaving, his eyes still darting to the corners of the room, searching for it. But there was nothing there now. Just his empty bedroom. Just his familiar furniture, distorted by his trembling vision.
"Are you alright?" Jared asked, stepping inside cautiously. His voice was lower, rough with exhaustion. His eyes were bloodshot.
"Y-Yeah," Aidan stammered, running a trembling hand through his damp hair. He frowned, confused. "Did I wake you up?"
Lucas and Jared exchanged a look.
"No," Jared said. His voice was tense. "We were already awake. Didn't you hear the siren?"
The siren?
Aidan blinked.
Now that Jared had mentioned it, the distant wail of a police siren finally registered in his ears.
The red light.
His gaze snapped to the window.
The blinking crimson glow wasn't from some eerie, supernatural source. It was coming from outside.
Heart still pounding, Aidan pushed himself away from the glass and stepped forward. His fingers trembled as he pulled the curtain aside.
The sight made his stomach plummet.
Several police cars were parked outside Mr. Albu's house. Their flashing lights painted the street in an ominous red-and-blue haze. Officers moved back and forth, their silhouettes stark against the glow. A few of them were speaking into radios.
Aidan's fingers tightened on the curtain.
"What's going on?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The shadow in his room was momentarily forgotten, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease.
Jared exhaled sharply. "Bad news."
Aidan's stomach turned to lead.
"Is everything alright with Mr. Albu?" he asked, a sinking feeling creeping into his gut.
Jared didn't answer. He just shook his head.
Lucas was the one who finally spoke. His voice was quiet but heavy.
"Mr. Albu was found dead in his house a few hours ago."
Aidan's mouth went dry.
"W-What?"
"Someone called the emergency line," Lucas continued. "But the police don't know who it was. They're downstairs now, asking us some questions. We heard you scream and thought someone had broken in."
Aidan barely heard him.
His mind was still reeling from what he had just seen in his room.
His heartbeat was a frantic drum against his ribs, his breath still shaky.
Something unnatural had been in here.
Watching him.
And now... Mr Albu was dead.
Aidan hesitated.
Should he tell them about the shadow?
His hands curled into fists at his sides, fingers trembling slightly as he debated.
No. They wouldn't believe him. And even if they did, he didn't want to spook them.
"It was just a nightmare," Aidan lied.
Jared and Lucas exchanged uncertain glances, but neither of them pushed him further.
His mind, however, was already elsewhere—Damon.
The sickening realization hit him like a fist to the gut.
Where was Damon?
Aidan's heart pounded. Mr. Albu had been his sole caretaker, the only person Damon relied on. If something had happened to Mr. Albu, then...
Was Damon safe?
His throat felt dry as he swallowed back the anxiety bubbling in his chest.
"How did Mr. Albu die?" he asked, dreading the answer.
Lucas and Jared exchanged another uneasy glance before Lucas finally spoke.
"Strangulation."
Aidan shuddered, a cold sensation crawling up his spine. His body stiffened as he recalled the shadow in his room, the way it had just stood there, watching.
His skin prickled.
He needed to find Damon. Now.
Jared placed a hand on Aidan's shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Come downstairs, okay? Answer the officer's questions. I told him you spoke to the old man recently."
Aidan barely managed a nod before Jared turned and left the room.
He took a shaky breath.
His mind was screaming at him to leave, to go search for Damon right now, but he knew that would only raise suspicions. The last thing he needed was the police breathing down his neck.
With a reluctant sigh, he made his way downstairs.
The living room was dimly lit, the soft hum of voices from outside mixing with the occasional crackle of a police radio. An officer sat on the couch, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp and assessing.
Aidan lowered himself onto the couch beside him, forcing himself to appear calm.
"Did you know Mr. Albu?" the officer asked, flipping open a small notepad.
Aidan hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Careful.
There were things the officer wouldn't believe. And there were things that Mr. Albu wouldn't have wanted the police to know.
"He was really nice to me," Aidan said, keeping his voice steady. "I visited him often."
The officer's eyes flicked up from his notepad, scrutinizing him. "Often?"
Aidan clenched his jaw.
He knew how it sounded—a nineteen-year-old boy visiting a seventy-something man every day.
"Yes. He was a loner, just like me," Aidan said, shifting slightly. "Maybe that's why we got along."
The officer hummed, tapping his pen against the notepad. "Are you sure he was nice? The other people around here seem to think otherwise."
Aidan stiffened.
"They didn't know him," he defended, trying not to sound too defensive.
The officer gave him a long, measuring look before flipping a page. "One of my officers mentioned that a few months ago, you came to the police station complaining about seeing someone tied up in Mr. Albu's backyard."
Aidan froze.
He had almost forgotten about that.
His heart hammered against his ribs. He forced himself to remain still, to keep his face neutral.
"It was a misunderstanding," he said quickly. "The cottonwood tree in his yard—at night, it cast weird shadows. I thought I saw something, but when the officers checked, there was nothing there."
"And you went back to apologize after that?" The officer raised a brow.
Aidan nodded. "Yeah. That's how we became friends."
The officer didn't look convinced.
There was a long pause before he spoke again.
"We found a basement in his house during our searches," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Did you know about it?"
Aidan's breath caught.
A heavy, nauseating dread settled in his stomach.
His fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants, his pulse roaring in his ears.
If I spill one secret, the whole can of worms will open.
He forced himself to look at the officer, keeping his expression blank. "Did you find someone inside?"
There was a flicker of something in the officer's eyes. Suspicion. Like he had just caught Aidan slipping up.
"No," the officer said, his voice slow and deliberate. "But we found some questionable stuff down there."
Aidan's breath stilled.
Jared and Lucas, who had been silent up until now, exchanged horrified glances. Their gazes snapped to Aidan.
"You—" Lucas started, but his voice died in his throat.
"I didn't know," Aidan said quickly, trying to steady his voice.
The officer stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he exhaled and stood up.
"There's going to be an investigation," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "I suggest you cooperate with us."
Aidan bit his lip and nodded.
"All three of you," the officer added, his gaze hard as he looked at each of them.
Jared straightened. "Sure, officer. We'll fully cooperate."
The officer studied them for another beat before sighing and heading toward the door.
Aidan barely heard the sound of it clicking shut behind him.
His mind was a whirlwind.
He needed to find Damon. Before the police did.
As soon as the front door clicked shut behind the officer, Jared spun toward Aidan, his face a mask of barely restrained anger.
"Why did you hide the fact that you saw someone in his yard?" he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration.
Aidan's stomach twisted. He didn't need this right now.
"It was nothing," he said, forcing himself to sound dismissive. "It was a mistake."
Jared let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "A mistake? Are you kidding me, Aidan? Do you even realize what a mess this is going to be?" He ran both hands through his hair, pacing in short, frantic steps. "If my parents find out I'm involved in a murder investigation, they'll freak the fuck out. Do you know what that means for me? For all of us?"
Aidan swallowed, guilt curling in his gut.
Jared's eyes narrowed. "Is there anything else I need to know?"
Aidan hesitated. His pulse pounded at the base of his throat. He wanted to tell them everything—that the shadow he saw that night wasn't just some figment of his imagination, that he knew something unnatural had been in his room. That Damon was missing, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that all of this was connected.
But he couldn't.
They wouldn't believe him.
So instead, he shook his head. "No," he lied.
Jared exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "I'm not going to pretend that the police aren't suspecting us," he muttered. "Three young guys, all living in the same neighborhood as a murdered old man. And you—" he jabbed a finger at Aidan, "—had a clear fucking view of his yard where he was strangled. That's a lot of coincidences."
Lucas, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. His voice was tight. "Not to mention, you almost took money from him for your business." He turned to Jared. "Dude, this is bad. If they find anything suspicious about Mr. Albu's finances, you're going to be in trouble too."
Jared groaned, leaning back against the wall, his hands gripping his knees. "God... we are cooked."
Aidan clenched his fists. "It's going to be alright. We haven't done anything."
Jared let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah? Tell them that."
Silence stretched between them. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on Aidan's chest, making it hard to breathe.
Then Jared sighed. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have asked you to go to his house to water his plants."
Aidan shook his head. "It's okay. You couldn't have known."
For the next few days, Aidan was called in for questioning multiple times. Each time he stepped into the police station, his stomach twisted into knots. The officers weren't outright accusing him of anything, but their eyes held suspicion, their questions laced with an unspoken doubt.
At first, he thought it would pass—that they'd realize he had nothing to do with Mr. Albu's death and move on.
But then something else happened. Mrs. Barik was declared missing which was a surprise to him but it did put him another layer of suspicion.
Worse, someone had told the police they had seen Aidan talking to her right before she disappeared.
At college, whispers followed him. People threw him wary glances, their gazes heavy with silent accusations. Murderer. Suspect. Cursed. The weight of it bore down on him until he could hardly think straight.
But even with all of this, there was something else gnawing at him, something worse.
Damon was gone.
And there was no sign of him anywhere.
Days turned into weeks.
Mr. Albu's house was sealed off, his belongings confiscated by the police for investigation. If Damon had been in that house, they would've found him.
But they didn't.
Aidan had tried asking the officers what exactly they had discovered inside, but they had turned the questions back on him, pressing him for answers instead.
Did he know about the basement?
Had he ever been inside?
Had Mr. Albu ever told him anything unusual?
Aidan had no answers for them.
All he knew was that whatever they had found in that basement was enough to make the police view him with even more suspicion.
His final exams loomed closer, but his focus was shattered. The police were everywhere, keeping tabs on his every move. His parents knew something was wrong and kept calling, urging him to come home, but he couldn't. The police wouldn't let him leave town until the investigation was complete.
Aidan felt like a rat trapped in a maze—everywhere he turned, he hit a dead end.
And worst of all?
The shadow he had seen the night Mr. Albu died... he couldn't shake the feeling that it was still watching him.
Mrs. Barik's face was plastered across missing person posters all over town. The police continued their search, but no one knew where she had gone. Some people claimed they had seen her lurking near the edge of the forest, but every search party that went looking for her came back empty-handed.
And then, slowly, the police stopped bothering Aidan.
Weeks passed, and no new developments surfaced in Mr. Albu's murder case or Mrs. Barik's disappearance. The officers no longer interrogated him, no longer tracked his movements. After a month, he was finally allowed to go wherever he wanted without suspicion weighing him down.
Life in town returned to normal.
But Aidan couldn't.
He couldn't stop thinking about Damon.
Couldn't stop wondering where he was, if he was safe—or if something had happened to him that night.
The police had found nothing in Mr. Albu's house. No bodies, no evidence of anyone being held captive.
And yet...
Aidan couldn't shake the feeling that Damon was out there, somewhere, waiting for him to find him.