Chapter 4 - David descended into the darkness.“Tank!”
Sarah grabbed his shirt.
“Don't go.”
“He's alive.”
“We don't know that.”
David pointed the flashlight downward.
There were stairs.
Old concrete stairs.
They led beneath the house.
Beneath the basement.
A place David never knew existed.
The air grew colder.
He heard Tank whining again.
Then a metallic clang.
David reached the bottom.
The flashlight revealed a corridor.
Concrete walls.
Electrical cables.
Cameras.
A monitor mounted on one side.
Dozens of screens.
Every screen showed a different room in the house.
Nursery.
Kitchen.
Garage.
Bedroom.
Living room.
David stared.
They weren't cameras installed recently.
Some wires were covered in dust.
Others were new.
He found one screen showing Leo sleeping.
Another showed David at work.
Another showed Sarah entering the house.
David's jaw tightened.
“How long?”
Sarah stood behind him.
“What?”
“How long has someone been monitoring us?”
Sarah didn't answer.
David walked deeper.
A steel door stood at the end.
It was locked.
Then a noise came from behind it.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
David knew that sound.
“Tank.”
He tried the handle.
Locked.
“Move.”
Sarah stepped closer.
David kicked the door.
Once.
Twice.
The frame cracked.
Third kick.
The door opened.
Tank was inside.
Alive.
The dog rushed toward David.
David dropped to his knees.
“Tank.”
He hugged him.
The dog pushed his head against David's chest.
There was blood on his collar.
Not his own.
David pulled away.
“Where did this come from?”
Tank turned.
He stared toward the far corner.
David followed his gaze.
There was a chair.
And on the chair sat a child's blanket.
Leo's blanket.
David picked it up.
It smelled like smoke.
Sarah stepped closer.
“What is this place?”
David noticed something written on the wall.
Not painted.
Scratched.
A single sentence.
DO NOT LET HER TAKE HIM AGAIN.
David turned toward Sarah.
“What does this mean?”
Sarah stared at the words.
Her face collapsed.
She whispered:
“I remember.”
David's heart stopped.
“What?”
“A room.”
She pressed a hand against her forehead.
“When I was a child.”
David frowned.
“I thought you grew up in Ohio.”
“I did.”
“Then what room?”
“I remember a white room.”
She swallowed.
“There was a crib.”
David stared at her.
“There were people watching through glass.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“And there was a dog.”
David glanced at Tank.
“No.”
“Not Tank.”
She opened her eyes.
“Another dog.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“What happened?”
Sarah trembled.
“I was told never to talk about it.”
“By who?”
“My mother.”
David's phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice.
Older.
Cold.
“You found the room.”
David froze.
“Who are you?”
“You need to leave the house.”
“Where is the person watching us?”
“He isn't watching you.”
David looked at the monitors.
“What?”
“He's protecting you.”
“From Sarah?”
Silence.
David's eyes moved toward his wife.
The voice said:
“No.”
A pause.
“From what Sarah remembers.”
Then the call ended.
David lowered the phone.
Sarah looked at him.
“What did she say?”
David didn't answer.
Because at that moment, Tank began growling.
Not at Sarah.
Not at the hallway.
At the wall behind them.
David moved closer.
He tapped the wall.
Hollow.
Again.
Hollow.
He pulled a loose panel.
Behind it was a room.
A hidden nursery.
A crib.
Old photographs.
Hundreds of them.
David entered.
There were pictures of Sarah as a child.
Sarah at fourteen.
Sarah at eighteen.
Sarah pregnant.
Sarah holding newborn Leo.
And one photograph that made David stop breathing.
It showed Sarah standing beside a crib.
Two years ago.
Holding a newborn.
On the crib was a name card.
Not Leo.
EMMA.
David looked at Sarah.
“What is Emma?”
Sarah stared at the photo.
May you like
Then she whispered the words that shattered everything.
“Leo wasn't the first baby.”
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