The Call Back
The Call Back
Downstairs — Rebecca
Rebecca stood trembling in the dim hallway, breath shallow, clutching the railing like it might anchor her to reality.
The lights flickered.
A shadow moved at the far end of the hall—slow, deliberate, a silhouette she couldn’t place. It stood still, watching her, head tilted.
“Craig,” Rebecca hissed, backing away, “why are you doing this to me? Are you trying to make me think I’m crazy?!”
No answer.
She pointed at the silhouette, voice cracking.
“Who is that?!”
Her voice echoed sharp and frantic.
“Show yourself! I said show—”
The basement door slammed open behind her with a metallic bang.
Craig’s voice blared over the intercom:
“ALERT. Intruder detected.”
Rebecca jumped and spun around—
And froze.
Standing just beyond the doorway…
Wet hair.
Cold, smug smile.
The stench of the river clinging to him.
Luca.
Rebecca’s breath shattered in her chest.
She didn’t recognize him—but she felt the wrongness immediately.
“Wh–who are you?” she whispered, backing into the wall. “What do you want?”
Luca raised the gun lazily, almost bored.
“Just catching up on unfinished business.”
Upstairs — Clara & Marisol
Marisol’s laugh echoed down the hallway—unhinged, sharp.
“He’s back,” she whispered. “He’s back.”
Clara’s heart slammed in her chest.
Marisol was distracted—just long enough.
Clara snatched the metal lamp from the side table and swung it with all her strength.
CRACK.
The lamp struck Marisol’s skull.
Marisol collapsed sideways with a strangled gasp, dropping the knife.
Clara staggered, clutching her belly, vision speckled with panic.
She stumbled out of the room, gripping the wall for balance, each step down the staircase agony.
Her breaths trembled like glass.
“Please… please don’t let him see me first…”
The Grand Hall
Clara reached the bottom of the stairs—
—and froze.
Rebecca sat in the middle of the hall, hands lifted, face pale with terror.
Behind her stood Luca.
Smirking.
Pointing the gun at Rebecca’s head.
He looked up slowly—eyes locking onto Clara.
The smile widened.
“Well,” Luca said softly, “look who made it downstairs.”
Clara clutched her belly, breath shaking.
Rebecca whispered, terrified, “Clara… run…”
But Luca tilted his head, amused.
“No,” he said.
“No one runs from me this time.”
The mansion went dead silent.
Every light froze.
Craig’s voice cut out completely.
Darkness swallowed everything
Rami limped down the gravel road, one hand pressed to the bleeding side of his ribs, the other gripping the old man’s dusty Nokia like it was life itself. Behind him, blue and red lights flickered through the trees—police cars arriving in response to the old man’s call. Officers ran toward him, shouting orders, but he held up a shaky hand.
“One second—my phone. Please. I need to make a call.”
His voice rasped, almost gone.
He didn’t wait for permission.
He dialed.
Far From the City
A heavy wooden door opened to a bright conference room. Twenty young performers sat in a semicircle, all eyes on a charismatic man in black—Erika’s boyfriend, their acting coach, guiding them through emotional exercises.
Erika sat among them, calmer than she had been in months. A notebook open. A pen idle between her fingers. Trying—really trying—to start over.
Then her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She silenced it.
Two seconds later, it rang again.
Same number.
She frowned, whispered an apology, and stepped out into the hallway.
The moment she accepted the call, a ragged breath crackled through the speaker.
“Please… don’t hang up. It’s me.”
Rami.
Erika leaned against the wall, tension pulling her shoulders tight.
“What do you want, Rami?”
His reply came broken, desperate.
“He’s alive. Luca is alive. And I think he’s going to the mansion.”
Erika froze.
“That’s impossible. He died. His body—”
“I don’t know what happened,” Rami cut in. “Someone helped him. He wasn’t fully dead. And now—he shot me and my partner near a lake. I’m—” He inhaled sharply. “—not doing good.”
Erika covered her mouth.
“Where are you?”
“Far. In the woods. Wounded. But I’m sure he’s heading back there.”
A beat.
“You know that place better than anyone. You’re closer. You could end this before he kills someone else.”
A long pause stretched between them.
Erika’s throat tightened.
Her heart pounded.
She had promised herself she would never return. Never step inside that cursed house again.
“Rami…”
Her voice cracked. “I can’t. I finally left all of that. I can’t go back.”
“Please.”
The word came out a plea, raw and terrified.
“You’re the only one who can stop him. The only one who knows the house. The tunnels. Craig’s patterns. Please.”
Erika closed her eyes.
Behind her, she heard her boyfriend calling her name—gentle, curious.
A life that wasn’t drowning in blood and secrets.
A life she wasn’t sure she deserved.
A life Luca could destroy in minutes.
She inhaled sharply.
“Fine,” she whispered.
“But I need something from you first.”
Rami’s breath hitched.
“What?”
“I need Alina.”
“You’re not serious,” he said instantly. “Erika—she’s unstable. Dangerous. Locked away for a reason.”
“I need her,” Erika insisted, steady now. “If Luca is alive, she’s the only one who knows what he’s capable of. And he won’t hesitate with Elliott or Clara inside that house.”
Silence.
Painful.
Then—
“Okay,” Rami whispered. “I’ll make the call.”
Erika swallowed hard.
The past she escaped was calling her back.
And she had no choice but to answer
Luca closed the front door behind him with a slow, deliberate click.
Rebecca’s breath hitched. She pressed herself instinctively closer to the wall as the tall young man stepped out of the shadows and into the dim glow of the hallway light.
“Who… who are you?” she whispered.
Luca’s smile was thin. Cold.
He walked past her as if he owned the place, fingers brushing the polished wood rail.
“It’s funny,” he murmured. “Being back here feels like stepping into an old childhood photo. Nothing has changed. The lies are still on the walls. The ghosts still in their corners.”
Rebecca stiffened.
His voice—it wasn’t familiar. But the way he looked at her…
He finally turned.