The bungalow did not welcome Oliver Kingsley.
It endured him.
Oliver felt it the moment the front door slammed shut behind him. The locks slid into place by themselves—one after another—sharp metallic clicks that echoed like laughter through the marble hall.
"Stay behind me," Oliver said quietly.
Amelia clutched the back of his coat, her fingers trembling. "It locked," she whispered. "He locked it."
Oliver nodded. He had already noticed.
The chandelier above them dimmed, crystals rattling softly as if something heavy had just brushed past them. The air thickened, growing damp and cold, carrying the faint smell of rain and iron again.
Sebastian's scent.
Oliver swallowed and moved forward. His footsteps echoed unnaturally loud, as if the house wanted to announce every move he made. On the walls, expensive paintings began to tilt—just slightly—portraits of smiling strangers now watching him with accusing eyes.
"Sebastian," Oliver said firmly. "Show yourself."
Amelia gasped.
From the far end of the hall, the temperature dropped sharply. A shadow peeled itself away from the staircase—slow, deliberate, confident.
Sebastian Crowe emerged.
He looked more solid than before. More real.
His shoes touched the marble floor without a sound. His suit was immaculate, his posture relaxed, like a man standing in his own home. Only his eyes betrayed him—dark, endless, and hungry.
"You shouldn't have come back," Sebastian said calmly. "This house doesn't like guests."
Oliver stepped forward, blocking Amelia completely. "She asked me to come."
Sebastian's smile sharpened.
"She doesn't know what she asks for anymore."
The lights exploded again, plunging the hall into darkness. When they flickered back, Sebastian stood inches away from Oliver's face.
Oliver's breath caught painfully in his chest.
The pressure returned—harder this time. Invisible hands crushed his ribs, squeezing the air from his lungs. His vision blurred as he staggered backward, barely staying on his feet.
"Stop!" Amelia screamed.
Sebastian turned his head slowly toward her, his expression softening into something terrifyingly tender.
"Look what you make me do," he murmured. "I hate hurting people in front of you."
With a flick of his fingers, Oliver was hurled across the hall.
He slammed into the wall, breath exploding from his chest. The impact cracked a framed mirror beside him. Spiderweb fractures spread across the glass—and in every fragment, Oliver saw Sebastian's face smiling.
Amelia ran to him, dropping to her knees. "Oliver! Oliver, please—"
Sebastian appeared behind her.
Not reflected.
Actually there.
Oliver tried to shout a warning, but pain stole his voice.
Sebastian knelt slowly, bringing his face close to Amelia's ear. His voice was a whisper meant only for her.
"Do you remember the night I died?"
Amelia froze.
Her breathing became shallow.
"I was thinking of you," Sebastian continued. "Thinking how unfair it was that you were trying to leave me."
Tears streamed down her face. "I didn't leave you… you scared me."
His hand rose.
This time, it touched her.
Amelia screamed as icy fingers wrapped around her wrist. Not pain—something worse. A draining cold that sank into her bones, flooding her with memories that weren't hers to feel.
Blood on wet asphalt.
Sirens.
Fire.
Sebastian's last breath.
She collapsed, sobbing violently.
Oliver forced himself up, ignoring the agony tearing through his body. He grabbed the broken mirror shard from the floor, its edge biting into his palm.
"Get away from her!" he roared.
Sebastian looked up slowly.
For the first time, his smile faded.
"You're persistent," he said thoughtfully. "I respect that."
Oliver lunged.
The shard passed straight through Sebastian's chest—
And Sebastian screamed.
The house screamed with him.
Walls cracked. Lights burst. The chandelier shattered, raining glass onto the marble floor. Sebastian stumbled backward, clutching his chest as black smoke poured from the wound.
"You can't kill me," he hissed. "Not here."
"Maybe not," Oliver said through clenched teeth, blood dripping from his hand. "But you can't have her."
Sebastian's eyes burned.
"This house belongs to me," he snarled. "She belongs to me."
The floor beneath Amelia began to darken.
A shadow circle spread outward, swallowing the marble like ink.
Sebastian stood tall, his form distorting, growing darker, larger.
"You brought him inside," Sebastian said to Amelia, his voice echoing unnaturally. "Now the house has chosen him too."
The doors slammed upstairs.
Something heavy began moving.
Slow footsteps.
Coming down.
Amelia looked up at Oliver, terror flooding her eyes.
"There's more than one," she whispered.
Oliver tightened his grip on the mirror shard as the darkness thickened around them.
"I know," he said quietly.
And above them, the bungalow breathed again.