Chapter 43
The words I had said to Luca echoed in my head: I’ll go.
At the time that I agreed to go with him back home, it had felt right. The idea of being back home at my house felt exciting and made sense, like it's something that I am destined to do. But the longer I sat with the thought of that burned house, the lingering energy, the possibility of a witch lurking around, the more uneasy I became. Something deep inside of me twisted, warning me to stay away.
By evening, my decision had shifted. I didn’t want to go back, at least not now. I sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the edge of the blanket as Dan came in with a tray of tea. He set it on the nightstand, observing me, his brow furrowed the way it always was when he sensed something was wrong.
“You’re quiet,” he said finally, pulling up a chair beside me. “Too quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?” I looked up at him, biting my lip.
“I don’t think I can go back there, Dan. To that house. Something about it… It doesn’t feel right. My gut is telling me it’s dangerous.” He didn’t respond right away, just leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if giving me the space to explain. His silence felt like permission.
“I know Luca said it’s just energy, that it’s… flaring up, or whatever he called it. But it feels like it's more than that,” I continued, the words tumbling out faster now. “That place isn’t just bricks and ash; it’s tied to me. And if I step foot in it again, I’m afraid something will happen to me.”
Dan’s expression softened. He reached for my hand, his warmth steadying me. “Em, if your instincts are warning you, you should listen to them. Always. You’ve been through too much to ignore your own body screaming at you.” Tears stung my eyes. “But if I don’t go, what if the witch gets there first? What if she twists that energy into something worse?” He squeezed my hand gently.
“Then we prepare in other ways. I can put protections around our home. I can make sure Luca doesn’t go sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. You don’t have to face this right now. Not while you’re still healing.”
I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me at his words. I had expected him to argue, to insist that I follow through. Instead, he was grounding me in the present.
“You really think it’s okay to wait?” I asked, almost like a child seeking reassurance. Dan nodded firmly. “Yes. Sometimes waiting is the wisest move. That house isn’t going anywhere. And if it’s as powerful as Luca claims, then it’s not going to crumble overnight either.”I gave a small, watery laugh. “You always make it sound so simple.”
“That’s my job,” he said, smiling faintly at me. "You need to know that I've got your back no matter what." I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest. For the first time since waking up, I let myself breathe deeply, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heart.
“Then we wait,” I whispered. “For the right moment. For when it feels safe.”
“Exactly,” Dan murmured, pressing a kiss to my hair. “And when that moment comes, we’ll face it together.”Later that afternoon, Dan slipped out to run errands. He left me tucked under the blanket, a kiss pressed to my forehead, his usual reminder to call him if I needed anything lingering in the room even after he was gone.
The house felt oddly quiet without him in it, as though his presence had become the anchor that steadied the walls themselves. I tried to relax, flipping absently through a book, but unease kept pricking at me. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant hum from outside, set me on edge.
Maybe it was just the conversation about the house replaying in my head; life hadn’t given me a moment of peace in weeks. So I think I reserve the right to freak out. Or maybe it was Luca walking around the house, even though I haven't seen him today.
The shrill ring of my phone jolted me. I reached for it on the nightstand, frowning at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. For a moment, I considered ignoring it. But instinct or maybe curiosity made me swipe to answer.
“Hello?” At first, there was silence and the faint crackle of the line. Then a distorted voice, low and mechanical, sliced through.
“Drop one million dollars at the mall in an hour if you don’t want Dan to know the truth.” My blood turned cold in shock. I sat up on the bed, my heart loudly thumping against my chest. “What? Who is this?” I demanded, my grip tightening on the phone.
No one replied; the only answer I got was the click of the call being dropped. I pulled the phone away, staring at the blank screen as if the digits could somehow give me the answers. My pulse raced, a thousand thoughts crashing into each other—what truth? Who would say something like that? How did they get my number?
My first instinct was to call Dan immediately, but another wave of panic stopped me. Whoever it was, they wanted to control me through him. If I told him outright, would I be putting him in more danger?
I sank back against the pillows, clutching the phone to my chest. For the first time, I felt the walls of the mansion pressing in on me, and the silence wasn’t comforting anymore. "What truth is this person talking about?" I asked myself, but my mind immediately thought of Tyson. Is he in some kind of money trouble, so he is trying to milk money out of me?
I took my phone and tried to call his number, but it took me straight to voicemail: "Bastard." I murmured to myself, assuming the worst.