The figure lunged.
Rhea didn't scream—she couldn't. Her breath stopped cold as the woman in white sprinted toward her, bare feet smacking the marble floor, hair flaring behind her like a black flame.
"Rhea—MOVE!" Luca roared.
He yanked her sideways just as the woman slashed past, her fingers grazing Rhea's arm—a cold touch, colder than skin should be. Rhea stumbled against Luca's chest, breath ripped from her lungs.
The woman skidded, her movements jerky and unnatural, like her joints bent wrong. She turned her head too fast, cracking her neck in a sharp, sickening twist.
Rhea clutched Luca's shirt. "What… what is she?"
"She isn't Serena," Luca growled. "She never was."
The woman tilted her head. Her face flickered again—Serena's. Then someone else's. Then a blank smear of shadow.
"This isn't real," Rhea whispered.
"It's real," Luca said. "Too real."
The woman's lips curled into a smile as she rushed at them again.
Luca shoved Rhea behind him and stepped forward, intercepting the figure mid-charge. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it sharply.
The woman didn't scream.
She only laughed.
A horrible, high, choked laugh that made Rhea's stomach twist.
"Luca," Rhea gasped, "let's run!"
"We can't outrun this," he said through clenched teeth.
The woman leaned in close to his face, eyes wide and dead. "You can't stop me," she whispered.
Then she slipped free of his grip like she had no bones.
She landed on all fours, spine arching, long hair dragging against the floor as she crawled toward Rhea.
"NO!" Luca shouted.
Rhea backed away, palms sliding across the wall, breath shattering. "Luca…"
He grabbed a sculpture pedestal and hurled it at the crawling figure. It slammed into her shoulder, cracking bone.
Still she crawled.
Her fingers brushed Rhea's shoe.
And then—
She stopped.
She lifted her head.
Her lips formed a soft, chilling whisper:
"Found you."
Rhea's pulse died in her throat.
Then the woman collapsed into a heap—body folding inward like her bones melted. Her hair spilled over her face.
Luca grabbed Rhea's wrist. "We're leaving. Now."
"What if she gets up?"
"If she moves," he said darkly, "I'll break every limb she has."
He pulled Rhea down the hallway, keeping her tucked against his side, moving fast but alert—eyes scanning every shadow, every corner.
Rhea's voice trembled. "Luca… that thing wasn't human."
"She's human," Luca said. "Just not the way you think."
"What does that mean?"
He didn't answer.
"Luca…"
"Rhea. Not now."
She swallowed the questions clawing at her throat. They didn't stop walking until they reached a new corridor—warm light, polished floors, rich mahogany doors.
Luca's wing.
He opened the first door on the right and pushed her inside.
The room was dimly lit, warm, quiet—the opposite of the cold corridors. A king-size bed. Dark blue curtains. A faint scent of cedar.
His room.
Rhea froze. "You brought me to…"
"Yes."
He shut the door behind them.
She spun around. "Luca, what if she followed us?"
"She didn't."
"But what if—"
"She didn't," he repeated, walking past her to lock the door. "She stayed behind to send a message."
Rhea shivered. "A message for who?"
Luca's voice came out low. "For me."
He took off his jacket, his expression tightly controlled. Too controlled. Like a man forcing down panic.
Rhea swallowed hard. "Luca, please. Tell me who she is."
He stopped.
Hands braced against the dresser, head bowed, shoulders rigid.
Then he finally spoke.
"She's not your sister," he said quietly. "And she's not a ghost."
"Then what is she?"
"A warning."
"A warning from who?"
He lifted his head slowly.
"From the man you saw today."
Rhea's stomach dropped. "But she looked like Serena, and even sounded like her."
"I know."
His eyes darkened.
"That's the point."
She took a step closer. "How could she look like Serena?"
"Because he's been studying Serena for years," Luca said. "Her voice. Her movements. Her face."
Rhea's breath trembled. "He used her to scare me."
"To scare both of us," Luca corrected. "And he wants you to think he can reach anywhere. Even memories."
Rhea wrapped her arms around herself. "This is insane."
"It's calculated," Luca said. "He wants you confused. Vulnerable."
"Why me?" Rhea whispered. "Why not just target you?"
Luca stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Because he knows I'd burn this entire mansion down if anything happened to you."
Rhea's breath hitched. "You don't mean that."
"I do."
Silence thickened the room.
Rhea looked away, her heart pounding too fast. "You barely know me."
"I know enough," Luca murmured.
She felt his presence before she turned back—close, warm, intense. He reached for her hand.
"Your hands," Luca said quietly, "shake when you're scared. She used that against you."
Rhea looked up slowly. "Why does he want me scared, Luca?"
"Because you're the last thread left."
"Thread to what?"
"To her," he said. "To Serena."
Rhea's throat tightened. "Luca… what did you two get involved in?"
He didn't answer.
Rhea stepped closer. "Did Serena owe someone?"
Luca's jaw locked.
"Did she betray someone?"
His silence sharpened.
"Did she…"
"Rhea."
He caught her wrist gently.
"Stop."
Her voice broke. "I need the truth."
"You want the truth," he said, gripping her hand tighter. "But you're not ready for what it'll do to you."
"I decide what I'm ready for."
"No." His eyes darkened. "He decides. And tonight, he showed you exactly how far he'll go."
Rhea pulled her hand away. "Then he won."
Luca's expression snapped. "He didn't win anything."
"Yes, he did," she whispered. "I saw a dead woman's face. Serena's face. You expect me to just pretend…"
"I expect you to survive," Luca snapped.
Rhea flinched.
He immediately closed the distance again. "Rhea. I'm sorry. But you have to listen to me."
"Why?"
"Because you're not the only one he's after."
She looked up. "Who else?"
Luca didn't blink. "Me."
The admission landed heavy.
Rhea swallowed. "Why would he send a woman wearing Serena's face? What's he trying to say?"
Luca's throat worked. "He's saying he remembers."
"Remembers what?"
He looked away. "The fire."
Her breath caught. "The night Serena died?"
Luca nodded slowly.
Rhea stepped closer. "The police ruled it an accident."
He didn't respond.
"Luca."
Her voice trembled.
"Was it an accident?"
His silence answered her.
Rhea felt like the world tilted. "Luca… what really happened?"
He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing the room.
"Serena didn't just die in that fire," he said quietly. "She was hunted. Watched. Followed. Harassed."
Rhea's knees weakened. "And you never told anyone?"
"I told the one person who needed to know."
"Who?"
"Serena."
Rhea swallowed painfully. "Did she listen?"
"No." Luca's voice cracked. "She thought she could fix everything on her own."
The memory punched him. Rhea could see it.
She took a small step closer. "And now he's using her voice to get to you."
"To both of us," Luca corrected. "Because you're the one thing I still care about."
Rhea's heart stuttered.
"You don't mean that," she whispered.
"I do."
His breath touched her cheek.
Her body tensed.
His gaze dropped slowly—to her lips.
"You're not safe because you're Serena's sister," he said softly. "You're not safe because you paint like her or walk like her."
"Then why?" she breathed.
"Because you got close to me."
Rhea's breath shattered.
Luca stepped closer, too close, lips inches from hers.
And then…
KNOCK.
A sharp knock slammed against the door.
Rhea jumped. "Luca—"
"Stay behind me."
He moved to the door silently, hand reaching for the handle.
Another knock—louder this time.
"Who is it?" Luca demanded.
Silence.
Then a small white envelope slid under the door.
Luca snatched it instantly. "Don't touch it."
"What is it?" Rhea whispered.
He opened it.
Inside lay a strip of silk.
Black.
Soft.
Torn from a dress.
Serena's dress.
Rhea's breath caught. "That… that's from her memorial gown."
Luca's hand clenched around the silk.
Then he unfolded the note attached to it.
Rhea watched his face pale.
"Luca… what does it say?"
He handed her the note without looking at her.
Rhea took it with shaking hands.
Her stomach twisted as she read the words.
YOU CAN'T PROTECT HER
THE WAY YOU FAILED TO PROTECT SERENA.
And beneath that…
NEXT TIME
I'LL TAKE HER HANDS
FIRST.
Rhea gasped and clutched her wrists.
Luca's expression shattered into pure fury.
"Over my dead body," he growled.
But before Rhea could speak…
Something clicked behind them.
A soft sound.
The studio door?
No.
The closet.
The closet door was opening on its own.