The morning after Alani's terrifying encounter, the girls gathered at Alani's apartment, tension hanging heavy in the air. No one touched their coffee.Alani sat quietly, her hands trembling slightly as she recounted the smudged message on her wall. A silence followed, broken only when Naya admitted she'd heard whispers in her sleep too—words she couldn't understand. Sienna confessed to losing hours of time without explanation, and Sasha… she stayed quiet, eyes on the jar resting on the table between them. "What if it's the jar?" Naya whispered. The thought settled like fog around them. That's when Alani suggested they each take turns keeping it for a few days. "Let's document what happens," she said. "If it's real, we'll know soon enough." One by one, they nodded—reluctant, but needing answers. The Sisterhood Jar would now travel with each of them… and secrets would follow.
The echo of Alani's scream still lingered in Sasha's thougts exactly as she had described ,as she locked the door behind her. The meet-up with the girls had left her rattled—each of them had shared things they couldn't explain. Shadows that moved when no one was there. Whispers just as they drifted off to sleep. Objects shifting places. The jar, once a symbol of their unbreakable bond, now felt… sentient.
Still, she had forced a calm goodbye, hugging them each before heading home. The weight of the jar in her bag felt heavier than glass. It pulsed with a quiet presence, like it knew it was being discussed.
She barely had time to kick off her shoes when a knock rattled the door.
She froze.
Only one person knocked like that—low, deliberate, impatient.
Kian.
Sasha's heart skipped, her emotions tumbling between longing and warning. She hesitated before unlocking the door. When she opened it, there he was—his shirt undone at the collar, his jaw tight, eyes searching her face as though she held answers to questions he hadn't dared ask himself.
They didn't speak.
Not at first.
Kian stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him. The silence stretched, thick with tension and memory.
"I shouldn't be here," he said at last, voice rough.
"But you are," Sasha replied, barely a whisper.
Their eyes locked. There was something wounded in his gaze, something desperate and craving. Sasha tried to resist, to remember all the reasons this was a mistake. But her body betrayed her, leaning closer before her mind caught up.
The distance closed.
Their kiss started hesitant, then ignited. It wasn't hurried this time. It was deep, slow, intoxicating—each touch a confession, each gasp a surrender. They undressed each other with reverence, not haste. And as they melted into her sheets, time folded in around them. It felt like the world paused.
Kian traced her cheek with his thumb, his breath shaky. "I don't know how to stop."
"You don't have to tonight," she said, even though they both knew they should have.
Their bodies moved like they remembered each other from lifetimes before, and yet everything still felt new—electric, dangerous, inevitable.
But just outside the bedroom window, something shifted in the air.
A soft, eerie glow pulsed from the bag where the jar lay hidden. Its surface shimmered faintly, casting strange shadows on the wall.
Unseen. Watching.
Later, after Kian had fallen into a restless sleep beside her, Sasha slipped out of bed and padded quietly to the living room. The jar still sat in her bag, untouched since the meet-up. But now, under the moonlight leaking through the curtains, it glowed faintly—like embers in a dying fire.
She didn't dare touch it.
Instead, she stared, her heart thudding. A whisper brushed her ear. She spun around.
Nothing.
But her skin tingled.
She backed away slowly, returning to the bedroom where Kian stirred, murmuring something inaudible in his sleep.
Sasha climbed back in beside him, wrapping herself in the safety of his warmth, even though she knew—whatever this was, whatever they were—it wasn't safe anymore.
Somewhere beyond the walls, a presence stirred.
And the jar pulsed again.
Outside, the hooded figure stood under the streetlamp, head tilted slightly toward Sash's window.
A smile curled under the shadow of the hood as the figure whispered into a phone.
"It's begun. Lust weakens the veil."