He has fired seven nurses this week, and if your child makes a single sound, you will both be thrown into the snow, Chief Guard Mikhail warned me at the heavy iron gates of the Volkov estate.
Two days of isolation turned the manor into a hostile wilderness. Lily’s small stomach rumbled with hunger. My own was a hollow ache. The few packets of instant oatmeal and a half-gallon of milk I had brought were gone.
The air in our room felt colder, the walls pressing in. Lily, usually so cheerful, signed, “Food? Mama, food?” her small face creased with worry.
My heart twisted. I couldn’t let her go hungry.
At midnight, when the manor was steeped in a deep, eerie silence, I crept out of our room. Moonlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting long, distorted shadows down the grand hallway.
My stomach growled loud enough to shame me. I tiptoed towards the kitchen, a desperate hope lingering that someone might have forgotten Drake’s orders.
As I passed Damian’s master bedroom, a faint, almost imperceptible scent wafted from beneath his door—something metallic and sharp, like old blood, mixed with something else, acrid and ancient.
A chill, colder than the usual manor draft, prickled my skin. I stopped, a strange compulsion pulling me closer.
My eyes scanned the wall next to Damian’s door. The elaborate silk wallpaper, a dark brocade pattern, seemed to ripple in the faint light. One section, near the floor, was slightly loose.
I knelt, peeling back a corner of the silk. Beneath it, on the bare wooden wall, a chilling sight greeted me.
Ancient occult symbols, crude and angular, were painted directly onto the wood. They looked disturbingly fresh, almost glowing in the moonlight. The faint scent of blood was stronger here.
My breath hitched. They were painted in dried black blood. Not just red, but a deep, almost tar-like black.
This wasn’t just some gothic decor. This was something sinister, something deliberately hidden.
I fumbled for my phone, needing a picture, a record of this terrifying discovery. My fingers trembled as I aimed the camera.
Before I could snap the shot, a voice, cold and flat, cut through the silence.
“Still attempting to sabotage the estate, Nurse Halloway?”
I whirled around, my heart leaping into my throat. Julian Drake stood just a few feet behind me, his form a tall, dark silhouette against the moonlight from the distant windows. His eyes were shadowed, unreadable.
He must have been watching me. How long?
“This is not sabotage,” I managed, my voice strained. “These symbols… they’re connected to whatever is happening to Mr. Volkov.”
Drake took a step closer, his presence unnerving. “You will be arrested for trespassing and vandalism if you continue to touch the walls of this property, Nurse.”
His gaze dropped to my hand, still clutching the edge of the peeling wallpaper. A cold dread seeped into my bones. He knew exactly what he was doing.
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