Page 3 of Mourning Wings (Whitmore Legacy #1)

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VALERIA

I burst through the basement door and re-enter the crowded, noisy party. The laughter and music hit me like a wall as my eyes scan for the stairs that lead to the second floor.

“ Excuse me, excuse me,” I mutter as I weave between people.

Finally , I spot the staircase and race up, my mind focused on my best friend and the image I saw on the monitor. I reach the landing, breathless and anxious, scanning the hallway for Isabel . Where is she ?

I remember the layout from the screen and head toward the room where I think I saw her. The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open, my heart in my throat.

“ Hey !” I shout, my voice shaking. “ Get away from her!”

The guy looks up, startled, as my best friend’s eyes meet mine, filled with relief. I rush to her side, my hands trembling as I help her up. “ Are you okay?”

She nods, tears brimming in her eyes. “ I am now. Thank you.”

I glare at the man. “ We’re leaving,” I say firmly, guiding Isabel out of the room and back downstairs.

I take her to what I’m assuming is the bathroom, given the line leading to the door. We skip it, hearing a medley of shouts and grumbles, but I just turn my face and scowl at them.

It’s unlike me to bare my teeth at strangers, but my best friend is in shock, and I need to figure out what the fuck is unfolding in this house.

As soon as we’re locked in, I plop a still-shaking Isabel on the closed toilet seat.

I rinse an empty cup I find on the counter with soap then fill it with water, handing it to her. She gulps it all in one go.

“ Did you know that guy?” I ask once she takes a few calming breaths.

Her eyes are filled with tears, ready to overflow, as she nods. “ Yes . He’s the one who invited us here,” she replies, her voice trembling.

It’s the man from Vanguard , Ebonridge’s elite men’s club, an exclusive establishment tucked away in the heart of the town.

The members are all affluent men of esteemed status. Each member is distinguished not just by their wealth, but by their achievements in business, politics, or the arts. Membership is by invitation only.

And my best friend happens to work there.

I lean against the sink, the cool porcelain grounding me as I try to collect my thoughts. My frustrated eyes meet me in the mirror.

“ I asked you to get us an invitation to this party,” I begin. I can’t quite meet her gaze directly, so I focus on the tiles beneath my feet. “ I wanted to snoop around, figure out what’s going on with the Whitmores . I should’ve known it would turn out to be something like this.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. The guilt gnaws at me, twisting in my stomach. I’ve never felt so selfish. “ I’m so sorry, Isa .”

Isabel shifts on her seat and takes a deep breath, her gaze finally softening as she looks at me through the mirror. “ It’s okay. I decided to come with you. No one forced me. It’s not your fault.” Her hand reaches out to touch my arm. “ I chose to be here because I want to help you find out what happened to Camila . Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’re in this together.”

When Isa mentions Camila , my heart clenches, an ache that never truly goes away. I’ve been searching for her ever since we were torn apart.

We were just kids back then, but the bond we formed was unbreakable.

Losing her felt like losing a part of myself, a piece of my heart I’ve been desperately trying to find ever since.

“ Thanks , Isa .” I take her into my arms and squeeze tight.

Isabel nods. “ All I wanted was to go somewhere quiet. That’s why he took me upstairs. I’m so stupid. I should’ve known he’d come onto me.”

“ Please don’t blame yourself. You know how entitled those types of men are. They think everyone owes them something, especially women,” I say on a sigh. “ I’m just happy I got to you before he did anything else.”

“ How did you know I was in trouble?” Isabel asks, sniffling into my chest.

“ I went to the basement to look around and saw a bunch of screens. There were dozens, showing different rooms at different angles. It was so fucked up.” A chill runs down my spine. “ There’s something sinister about this place, Isa .”

“ He …he asked me to play a game,” she says. The image of Lisa running through the halls flashes in my mind.

“ What kind of game?”

“ I’m not sure. He said something about hide-and-seek,” she mutters.

Suddenly , there’s a sharp, insistent pounding on the door, and Isabel and I jump. Shit . I almost forgot there are people out there waiting to use the bathroom. They’re most likely wondering what’s taking us so long.

If I had any guesses, they probably think we’re fooling around.

Just then, I hear a voice through the door. “ Hey ! If you’re gonna stay in there any longer, at least let me in. I’d love to join in on the fun,” the guy shouts.

I roll my eyes. Just as predicted.

Isabel looks at me with a playful grin, raising her eyebrows. “ Should we let him in and pretend we were all over each other while making out?” she teases, any hint of distress disappearing.

I roll my eyes. “ Nope !”

Isabel is the only person in this world who cares for me. I don’t want anything to affect our friendship.

We’ve known each other since we were toddlers, having met as orphans in an institution. Isabel was abandoned at the orphanage’s doorstep as a baby, left without any explanation or note. She had been there long before I arrived.

She became my closest friend and confidante from the moment we met. We shared a bond forged by our circumstances. We were inseparable, finding strength in each other’s company, even after Camila came and left.

My mind inevitably wanders back to that haunting encounter in the basement, how that woman’s presence seemed to materialize out of nowhere, tall and slender, like something from a dream. Her gaze, intense and unwavering, pierced through me, leaving me strangely vulnerable yet oddly captivated.

I felt small in front of her, not just physically—her stature towering over mine—but also in the way she held herself, with an aura of confidence that drew me in. There was a thrill in the uncertainty, in not knowing what she was thinking or feeling behind that composed fa?ade.

I had an urge, almost something desperate, to see more of her. It wasn’t just about her physical features; it was about unraveling the mystery that seemed to surround her. I wanted to peel back the layers, to bring down the mask she wore so I could glimpse the rest of her face, the emotions hidden beneath.

At that moment, I was entranced. Time seemed to slow as we stood there, two figures in the quiet depths of the basement. The world outside faded away, leaving only her and me, suspended in the moment.

When Isabel and I finally step out of the bathroom, the guy who had shouted at us through the door is standing right in front of it, crossing his arms around his chest.

“ About time,” he says with a smirk.

I scoff. “ I’m sure there are other bathrooms in this gigantic house,” I retort, having no patience for his antics. “ Now , please move out of the way so we can leave.”

He stares us down, but after a few seconds, he steps out of the way. That’s what I thought .

Looking for the easiest and fastest way out of the house, I see a sliver of space leading to the front door.

I take Isabel’s hand and guide her away from the pulsing music and swirling lights of the party. Her fingers tremble slightly against mine, a sign she’s still shaken by what happened with that guy.

I glance at her sideways, noting the furrow between her brows, the distant look in her eyes. I hope this doesn’t linger.

As we step into the cool night air, I feel her tension ease a fraction, but I know she’s far from calm.

As we walk further down the property line, away from the mansion and toward the gates, I sense it before I see it. There’s a shift in the air, a subtle change that sets my nerves on edge. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimmer of movement—a shadow darting between the trees. My heart skips a beat as I glance over, trying to make sense of what I saw.

Then , like a flash, I see it again: the hint of that distinctive skull mask from the basement. Is she watching us? The figure disappears as quickly as it appeared, leaving me questioning if I even saw it at all.

I tighten my grip on Isabel’s hand in a silent signal to keep moving, my mind racing with unease. We continue down the path, but the feeling of being watched persists. It’s unnerving, like a weight on my shoulders I can’t shake off. I can’t help but glance back toward the trees, half-expecting to see her again.

And there she is. This time, I stop in my tracks, my eyes locked on the mysterious woman. Isabel halts her steps next to me, confused.

The stranger’s gaze is fixed on us. I notice details I hadn’t before: her honey-colored skin adorned with intricate tattoos, the uneven dangle of a cross earring—one lobe adorned, the other bare.

She’s wearing black cargo pants and a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

The intensity of her stare sends tingles down my spine, a sensation I can’t ignore. It’s not just fear—it’s something else, something that stirs arousal deep within me. The unknown surrounding her, the danger she seems to embody. It all adds to her allure.

Isabel squeezes my hand, breaking the tension. “ Val , what is it?”

I tear my eyes away from the woman. “ There’s someone watching us.”

Her eyes widen in fear. “ What do we do?”

I hesitate, torn between curiosity and caution. “ Let’s keep moving,” I finally say, my voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at me. Part of me wants to go into the forest and ask her what she wants.

We continue walking, the woman’s gaze burning into my back until we round a bend, and she disappears from view. But her presence lingers, and my mind races with questions, suspicions swirling like a storm. Is she part of whatever is happening in that house?

Once we pass the gate, I pull out my phone and call an Uber . The wait feels interminable, every rustle and distant sound putting me even more on edge. Isabel stands close, her eyes scanning the surroundings, as if she too can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

We exchange a glance. Tonight has been too strange and unsettling to part ways.

The Uber arrives, and we slide into the back seat, the tension in my bones easing just a fraction as the car pulls away from the mansion.

We’re headed to Isabel’s place, where I’ll be sleeping tonight.

When we first left the orphanage, we shared a small apartment next to the university. It was cramped, but it was ours, a sanctuary where we felt safe. Since graduating and getting jobs at opposite ends of the city, we’ve had to adjust to living apart for the first time. The transition wasn’t easy. The first few months, we spent almost every night together, refusing to be apart.

Now , we do it less often, finding a new rhythm to our separate lives. But after a night like this, there’s no way I’m leaving Isabel alone. The memory of that basement, of what happened in the bedroom with that creep, the unsettling presence of the woman in the mask—it’s too much to face alone.

We arrive at Isabel’s apartment, and she fumbles with her keys. Once inside, the familiar surroundings bring a sense of comfort. I drop my purse by the door and follow Isabel to the living room, where she collapses onto the couch, exhaling a long, shaky breath.

I sit beside her, our shoulders touching, a silent reassurance that we’re here together. “ You okay?” I ask softly, my eyes searching hers.

She nods, though her expression is still troubled. “ I just can’t stop thinking about what happened. How much further would he have taken it if you hadn’t found us? Who was that woman, and why was she watching us?” she asks, now rambling.

“ I don’t know,” I admit. “ But we need to be careful. There’s something suspicious going on.”

Isabel leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder. “ I’m glad you’re here.”

“ I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, wrapping my arm around her. “ We’ll figure this out together, just like we always have.”

The night stretches on, and the fear and confusion gradually give way to exhaustion. We move to her bedroom, the familiarity of sharing a space bringing me a small measure of peace.

As we lie there in the dark, I can feel Isabel’s breath evening out, her body relaxing next to mine. Too tired to change my clothes, I curl my body around hers, bringing my front flush to her back.

That’s when I feel something poking me through my skirt.

I reach into my pocket, and my fingers snag around a chain. When I pull it out, the sight sends a jolt through me.

I narrow my eyes, examining the necklace. It’s intricate, delicate, with a small, pink butterfly pendant dangling from it. It’s the same one the masked woman was wearing around her neck in the basement. My heart pounds in my chest as I try to make sense of it.

I shake my head, unable to provide any answers as my fingers close around the necklace.

This is hers. But why would she give it to me?

How did she even put it in my pocket without me noticing?

One thing is clear: the chain is a clue, a connection to the masked woman and whatever secrets she holds. I will cherish it, keep it safe until I figure out what it means.