I should have hated him. Should have felt afraid. And I did feel those things, to a degree. But there was something else. Something stupid.
Curiosity. And that's when I remembered it. The note. I jerked away slightly, twisting just enough to glance over his shoulder at the clock on the side table.
1:41 AM.
My stomach knotted.
'Come to the East Wing at 2AM. Bring nothing. I have the answers you're looking for.'
Who had written that? Why? Was this a trap? A warning? Some dramatic plot twist in the deadly race of this mansion?
Caligo snored softly beside me, his breath brushing my neck. I had to make a decision.
1:42.
Panic stirred beneath my ribs. What if this was a test? What if someone wanted me to sneak out just so they could catch me and say, "Ah-ha! She is a traitor too!"
1:45.
Maybe I was already being watched. Maybe the entire mansion was rigged with hidden cameras and I was starring in a reality show called "Survivor: Gothic Horror Edition."
1:48.
I chewed my lower lip. Should I bring a weapon? But the note said to bring nothing. Was that a reverse psychology thing? Or was that literal?
1:50.
I HAD to go. I had to know.
My pulse beat in my ears as I slowly, began to extract myself from Caligo's hold. Easier said than done. His arm was locked around me like a human manacle, and every time I moved, he nuzzled closer like I was his personal dream pillow.
"Come on," I whispered, gently peeling his hand from my waist like I was diffusing a bomb.
I rolled. Slid. Paused. Waited until there was no movement. Then, I set one leg off the bed, then the other.
He exhaled. I froze, expecting him to grab me by the hair and remind me of my place. However, he didn't budge.
And then I tiptoed to the door, heart drumming like a ceremonial war dance. I paused again. My fingers hovered over the doorknob. I glanced back.
He looked peaceful. Sleeping like the kind of man who didn't have a murder conviction to his name. As if his blood-soaked clothes were just some abstract fashion choice.
And then I slipped out. God help me, I was sneaking out. The corridor was dark. Too dark.
The kind of dark that made you question the value of your soul and whether your footsteps were attracting ancient spirits with mommy issues. I padded down the hall, hugging the walls like I was trying to merge with the wallpaper. Every creak sounded like a gunshot. Every shadow whispered threats in Latin.
East Wing. East Wing.
Where was the East Wing? Why hadn't the note come with a map? Or a Google pin?
I rounded a corner and collided with a statue. It wasn't a person. Just a statue of a very naked angel.
"What is wrong with this place?" I hissed, clutching my chest.
As I tiptoed through the dim corridors of the mansion, I kept muttering a silent prayer.
'Please, let it be someone with answers or an escape plan for me. Please, please.'
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness ahead. Startled, I froze in place, nearly going out of my marbles. The figure stepped into the light, revealing a maid dressed in the revealing traditional uniform of the household staff. She bowed deeply as she passed me, her eyes avoiding mine.
"Good morning, ma'am," she murmured.
I nodded in response, my curiosity piqued. As I continued down the corridor, I encountered another servant, this time a young man carrying a tray of what appeared to be midnight snacks. He too bowed respectfully, his gaze fixed on the floor.
"Ma'am," he said simply before hurrying past me.
Their behavior was peculiar, to say the least. I had never been addressed with such deference before, and their avoidance of eye contact was unsettling. Determined to find answers, I approached the next maid I saw who was a petite woman with a nervous demeanor.
"Excuse me," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Could you tell me how to get to the East Wing?"
The maid's eyes widened in surprise, and she took a step back, clutching the tray she was holding tightly as though, I had asked the impossible.
"T-the East… Wing, ma'am?" she repeated, stuttering.
"Yes," I confirmed, frowning. "Is there a problem?"
She hesitated, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "It's just... I didn't expect you to go there, ma'am. Not as Alpha Caligo's breeder."
I blinked, taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The maid's face turned pale, and she stammered, "I-I mean, as his... companion. I didn't think you'd be interested in the East Wing."
My mind raced, trying to process her words. "Why did you call him 'Alpha'?"
The maid's eyes darted nervously, and she pointed down the corridor. "The East Wing is that way, ma'am. Please excuse me."
Without waiting for a response, she scurried away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway with a thousand questions swirling in my mind.
Okay, this was starting to get scary. However, I, Rosemary Mercer was no quitter.
Maybe it was the note. Maybe it was the way Caligo held me like I was his possession. Or maybe I was just tired of being in the dark… literally and figuratively. What I just knew was that the invitation was too compelling to ignore.
Even I didn't know why.
I turned in the direction she had indicated, my footsteps echoing in the silence as I made my way toward the East Wing. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly and the shadows grew darker. As the air grew colder, a sense of foreboding settled over me.
As I reached the end of the hallway, a large wooden door loomed before me.
"Okay, this is it, Rose." I breathed into my palms, rubbing them together.
I paused, letting my hand hang over the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and pushed the door open.
Here goes nothing…