The world solidified around them with a sharp clarity, and the first thing Rachel registered was the smell.
Disinfectant.
It was faint at first, but the longer she stood there, the stronger it became. It crawled into her nose, sterile and cold, and it brought with it a wave of memories she wanted nothing to do with.
They were in the basement.
Rachel blinked slowly, forcing herself to focus as she took in her surroundings. Beside her, Aria looked around curiously while Ethan and Vivian had already shifted into a stance that screamed tension. Even before anyone spoke, Rachel could feel it.
Something was wrong.
No, not wrong.
Wicked.
The air itself felt heavy, laced with hostility so thick that it was almost tangible. Beneath the harsh white lighting, the walls seemed to breathe in quiet menace. Every sound felt sharpened. Every flicker of shadow carried intent.
And through it all, deep above them, Rachel could feel him.
Her grandfather.
