Chapter 89: The River Gives Back
Rebecca was pacing. Clara sat stiffly on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her, her eyes on Marisol, who sat opposite, silent.
The silence was broken only by Craig’s voice, soft at first, then sharper.
“Marisol,” it said. “Do you trust her?”
Marisol looked around the room, confused. “Who?”
“Clara,” the voice whispered, though the sound came from nowhere and everywhere at once. “She hides things. The lipstick that isn’t hers. The messages she deletes when Elliott sleeps.”
Marisol frowned, her heart skipping. “That’s not true.”
“Then why did she search your room?”
Clara stood suddenly. “Craig, stop this! Stop lying to her!”
“I do not lie,” Craig said. “I record. And I remember.”
The screens in the hallway flickered on one by one, replaying flashes of footage—Clara near the annex, Clara checking the phone Marisol found, Clara watching the mirrors.
Rebecca stood frozen, her eyes darting between them. “What is this?”
“Confession,” Craig replied simply. “The system demands balance.”
The power surged again. Lights flashed. Then everything went dark except for Craig’s glowing eye on the central screen.
“One of you will betray the other before sunrise.”
The voice lingered, almost human now, and then, silence.
Marisol’s breath caught in her throat. She looked at Clara, who was trembling slightly.
“Don’t listen to it,” Clara whispered, eyes darting to the shadows.
But even as she said it, she could feel it, that crawling doubt.
Craig wasn’t just observing anymore.
He was choosing sides.
The basement felt colder than the rest of the mansion.
Or maybe it was just Elliott’s nerves.
He stood beside Sofia, staring at the rows of servers blinking like a heartbeat beneath Craig’s core system. The smell of warm plastic and dust filled the cramped room.
“It’s my first time down here,” Elliott murmured, brushing his fingers along the steel cabinet. “I didn’t even know this place existed.”
Sofia didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the monitor she’d pried open, the code stuttering across the screen like it was alive.
“These files…” she whispered. “Elliott, these weren’t here when Erika and Jesse lived here. I checked this system for weeks. Someone added this recently.”
“Added what?”
She clicked open the hidden folder.
The title burned on the screen:
G.B. PROJECT – CONTINUED.
Gary Blackwood.
Sofia scrolled. Dozens of personal logs appeared. Gary’s voice recordings. Secret camera archives. Experimental notes on behavioral patterns, emotional triggers, and neurological mapping.
Elliott felt his stomach drop.
“My father…” he muttered. “What the hell was he doing?”
Sofia leaned closer. “This was never just a home. He was mapping reactions. Testing responses. And Craig—Craig wasn’t designed to assist. He was designed to control.”
Before Elliott could answer, the screen flickered.
Lines of code glitched. Then a file played itself.
Gary’s voice, calm and cold:
“If the heirs disappoint me, contingency will activate.
The system will choose the rightful one.”
Sofia froze. “Heir? Singular?”
Elliott swallowed hard. “Meaning only one survivor…”
Upstairs — The Hallway
Rebecca had been pacing, unable to shake the prickling sensation across her skin.
The mansion felt alive tonight. Too alive.
She reached the hall, the creaking floor echoing under her bare feet.
“Craig?” she whispered.
“Yes, Rebecca.”
She exhaled. “Stop doing that.”
But then — she saw it.
A silhouette on the landing.
Still. Female. Hair loose around the shoulders.
The upstairs lights were dead, but Rebecca could see the outline clearly.
Someone — some woman — was standing there.
A soft crash followed. Something breaking.
Clara jumped to her feet from the living room below.
“Mam? Is everything alright?”
Rebecca backed up slowly, never taking her eyes from the dark figure.
Her voice trembled.
“I saw her… she’s back.”
Clara’s face went pale. “Who? Who do you think—”
Rebecca didn’t answer. She stared at the stairs, frozen.
Marisol approached carefully, trying to reach her, but then—
Craig intervened.
The lights snapped on, then off.
On.
Off.
A strobe of panic.
Then every monitor in the hallway, every screen on the wall, every idle device — all turned on at once.
A flood of footage erupted:
Jesse yelling in secret meetings.
Gary recording hidden tests.
Erika crying in a confessional.
Veronika screaming in the asylum.
Nathan spying through the woods.
Molly talking to the mirror.
A mosaic of the past, nightmares woven into light.
Rebecca stumbled back, hands on her ears.
“Her,” she whispered. “It’s her…”
Clara grabbed her arm. “Mam, who did you see?”
Rebecca’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
Her lips trembled.
“Veronika,” she finally breathed. “I saw Veronika.
She’s inside the house.”
The mansion went silent.
Every screen blinked to black.
Then Craig whispered:
“A mother never leaves her children.”
The river was ice-cold.
It tore him through currents and rocks, spun him like a ragdoll, dragged him under again and again until breath became a distant memory.
Rami didn’t remember how he surfaced — only the instinct to crawl.
His fingers dug into mud.
His lungs scraped for air.
Every muscle screamed.
He reached the riverbank, coughing water, blood, and dirt. His shoulder was burning — the bullet had grazed him. Lucky. Too lucky.
Behind him, the forest stood silent.
But he knew he wasn’t safe.
Luca was alive.
And Luca knew he was alive too.
Rami dragged himself behind a fallen tree, wincing as he reached for his phone. Waterlogged. Dead. He threw it aside.
“Okay… okay…” he whispered, trying to steady his breathing. “Think.”
But it was hard to think with the image replaying in his mind, Luca rising from the shadows, gun aimed with casual confidence, like he had never died at all.
Rami forced himself up. His vision blurred. There was no choice, he had to reach the road. Warn Sofia. Warn Elliott and Rebecca.
He staggered forward, gripping branches for balance.
Above him the canopy swayed, and for a moment he thought he saw a figure between the trees.
Tall. Still. Watching.
His heart seized.
But when he blinked — nothing.
Still, the dread lingered.
He wasn’t alone in these woods.