Page 92 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Ninety-Two

The Other Way Out

The attic was massive.

Wider than she remembered. Longer than she thought possible. It didn’t just hover above the house—it sprawled like a skeleton of everything that Thornwick tried to hide.

She stepped lightly, weaving past broken dressers and covered furniture, ducking under beams thick with cobwebs. Dust hung in the air like smoke.

It smelled like old wood and locked-up memories.

She kept going.

Her eyes scanned the far walls.

And then she saw it.

A low door. Smaller than the others. Almost part of the wall.

She crouched.

No handle. Just a warped edge and rusted hinges.

Her fingers slipped under the lip and pulled.

The wood resisted, groaning under years of disuse—but finally, it cracked open.

Behind it—

A stairwell.

Steep. Narrow. Cramped.

It dropped down into darkness at a sharp angle .

The stairs were old, uneven. Some steps looked thinner than the rest, nearly slanted.

One wrong move, and she’d fall.

She hesitated only for a breath.

Then slipped inside and started down.

Each step creaked beneath her weight.

The walls on either side pressed close like they didn’t want her passing through.

She moved slowly, careful not to rush, hands brushing the sides to keep her balance.

Halfway down, she had to duck. The ceiling sloped sharply, pressing her into a crouch.

It was suffocating.

Then—at the bottom—she saw it.

Another door.

Small. Square. Set low into the wall.

She would have to crawl.

Lyric crouched lower, heart pounding.

No knob. Just a rusted latch—already unhooked.

Lyric stared at it for a moment, a shiver running through her. The last person to open this door… must have been her mother—Eden.

She reached out with trembling fingers and pushed.

The wood groaned but gave way, revealing a tight passage.

She brushed cobwebs from her face, dropped to her knees—and crawled.

The crawlspace was narrow. Low.

Her shoulders scraped the walls. Dust choked the air.

Wood creaked beneath her palms. Something scurried nearby.

She froze. Her breath caught—heart hammering, ears straining in the dark.

Was it a rat? Something worse? She couldn’t see. Could barely breathe.

But this was for Noah.

She forced herself forward, eyes burning, limbs trembling. She had to keep going.

Then—up ahead—light. Faint, but there .

She continued forward until her fingers met cool iron.

A grate.

She peered through it—and froze.

On the other side—dark wood. Neatly hung suits. Polished leather shoes.

The scent hit her next—clean, spiced, unmistakable.

Kai.

Her chest tightened.

This wasn’t just any room.

This was his.

She pressed her fingers against the grate.

It was loose.

Carefully, she lifted it free.

Set it aside.

Then crawled forward.

Soft carpet met her hands.

The air was warmer here—still. Controlled.

She rose slowly, dust falling from her sleeves.

She was inside his closet.

Inside his world.

And he had no idea.

Her stomach twisted.

This is his room .

The realization settled like a stone in her stomach.

This is how Eden escaped.

A secret door. A staircase buried behind a hidden panel. A path carved through the house where no one would ever think to look.

Her fingers brushed the edge of a neatly folded tie.

She turned back to the door she came through.

Her heart was racing—but not from fear.

From something sharper.

This was it. A real way out.

Nobody knew about this path.

This path was hers. Hidden. Secret. Unknown to Editha or anyone else.

A secret carved into the bones of Thornwick—one Eden had found decades ago .

They had never met. Never spoken.

Lyric had never even heard her mother’s voice.

But now… she had found the same escape.

And somehow, in the silence, it felt like a message.

A thread tying them together.

Not with words.

But with survival.

She crawled back through the narrow passage and climbed the creaking stairs.

Back into the attic.

Back into the dark.

She wouldn’t escape tonight.

But now she had a way.

And soon—she would use it.