A chill ran through the bedroom.

Outside, the wind howled against the glass, throwing rain against the windowpane.

Suddenly, a loud knock sounded on the bedroom door.

It was three sharp, metallic raps.

The sound of a cane.

“Open the door,” a voice commanded.

It was Vivian Thornton.

The matriarch’s voice was thin, but it carried an immense, chilling authority.

Ethan immediately closed his eyes.

His body went completely limp on the mattress.

His hand slipped from my wrist and fell to his side.

I stood up quickly, smoothing my skirt and checking my reflection in the dark window glass.

I walked to the door, turned the key, and pulled it open.

Vivian stood in the hallway.

She wore a dark silk robe, her silver hair held back in a tight, flawless clip.

She held her gold-topped walking cane in her right hand.

Behind her stood Jason, his hands tucked into his pockets, a faint, smug smile on his lips.

“Why was this door locked?” Vivian asked, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room.

“I was resting, Mrs. Thornton,” I said, keeping my voice level.