The sound from upstairs echoed through the house again—something heavy hitting the floor. Maya froze, her fingers tightening around the metal candle stand.
Jackson stepped forward immediately, placing a steady hand on her arm.
"Stay behind me."
Maya didn't know whether to trust him… but right now, he was the only person who didn't make the house feel like it was swallowing her whole.
They both stared toward the staircase, the darkness stretching endlessly like an open mouth waiting for them to step closer.
Jackson spoke in a low, tense voice.
"If someone's up there, they knew exactly when you'd arrive."
Maya swallowed hard.
"Why would anyone be in my house?"
Jackson gave her a look that sent a chill down her spine.
"Because the Collins family has more enemies than you know."
Before she could ask more, he bent down and opened the wooden box he had brought.
Inside was a small notebook, a silver key, and an old, cracked photograph.
Maya reached for the photo first.
It showed her mother standing outside the Collins house… but next to her was a man Maya had never seen before. His face was partly torn off in the picture, like someone had deliberately scratched it out.
Maya felt a sting in her chest.
"Who is this?"
Jackson shook his head.
"Your mother wanted you to find out."
Then Maya picked up the silver key. It was cold in her hand, heavier than it looked.
"This key…"
She turned it over, examining the number engraved on it: Room 17.
Jackson's face darkened.
"I've seen keys like that before. It belongs to the old Harbor Hotel—before it burned down."
Maya's eyes widened.
"That hotel closed fifteen years ago."
"And your mother kept this key even after that," Jackson added.
"Which means something important is still hidden there."
Before Maya could respond, a sudden thud shook the ceiling directly above them—followed by the sound of fast footsteps.
This time, closer.
Moving toward the staircase.
Maya's breath caught.
"Jackson—"
"I know."
He grabbed her hand.
"We're leaving. Now."
They hurried toward the door, but before they reached it, Maya turned back once, instinctively looking toward the stairs.
Someone was standing at the top.
Just a silhouette.
Still. Watching.
Her entire body went cold.
Jackson pulled her outside and slammed the door behind them.
The wind outside felt safer than the house she grew up in.
They reached Jackson's car, both breathing hard.
Maya finally whispered,
"Whoever that was… they knew my mother."
Jackson nodded, unlocking the car.
"And they know you're looking for the truth now."
Maya looked back at the house one last time.
The porch light flickered again—then went completely dark.
The game had already begun.
And someone inside the Collins family didn't want her alive long enough to play it.