The door of the small house slowly creaked open behind them.

A bright light from inside spilled across the porch, obscuring the figure’s face once more.

“Alana,” a voice called out from the doorway.

It was a voice I hadn’t heard in fifteen years.

I froze.

My phone lit up in my hand, receiving one final message.

The text was short.

“Welcome home.”

I took another step, my eyes straining to see past the glare.

The truth was just inside the door.

And there was no turning back.

I reached out and took Ana’s hand, drawing strength from her presence.

Together, we walked toward the porch.

The figure stepped aside, allowing the light to envelop us.

The door began to close behind us as we crossed the threshold.

The lock clicked into place.

The silence of the delta settled over the night once more.

Inside, the air was warm and smelled of pine.

A fire crackled in a small stove.

But the room was empty except for a single desk in the center.

On the desk sat a laptop, its screen glowing in the dim room.