Page 8 of Mourning Wings (Whitmore Legacy #1)

7

VALERIA

I ’m sitting in the back of my Uber , headed to Isabel’s apartment.

Tonight , we’re returning to the Whitmore estate, and I can’t shake this gnawing anxiety. I offered to go alone this time, but Isabel insisted on coming with me. In a way, I’m relieved to have her by my side.

It has been two weeks since the Halloween party, and we’re halfway into November . The holiday has passed, and the weather has started to cool, but the eerie vibes from Halloween still linger in the air, a haunting presence that hasn’t quite left us. The leaves are falling, but there’s a strange stillness, like the world is holding its breath.

I glance at my phone to check how far we are from Isabel’s place: three minutes.

I open our chat.

Me: Come out now.

Isa: Yes, Mommy.

Me: Haha. Two minutes.

I chuckle and slip my phone back into my purse. Looking down at my outfit, I start to second-guess my choice—a checkered pink skirt paired with a white and pink crop top. Maybe I should’ve gone with something less playful. I’m not sure what to expect, but if it’s anything like the Halloween party, it’s bound to be disturbing. A knot tightens in my stomach, my nerves making my hands slightly clammy.

The car stops, Isabel already waiting outside. As she hops into the back seat, I whistle.

“ Wow . On time and dressed to impress,” I tease.

Isa grins, giving me a playful wink. “ What can I say? I’m a good listener. Do you think this outfit is too much?” she asks, gesturing to her purple tie-dye skirt and white crop tank.

I shake my head. “ You look great, babe. I just hope whatever they have planned doesn’t involve bending over or running.”

She laughs. “ Let’s hope it’s not hide and seek.”

The mention of that game sends a shiver down my spine as I recall the memory of Halloween night. My body stiffens involuntarily.

Isa notices and touches my arm gently. “ What’s wrong, Val ?”

“ What if it is hide and seek?” I murmur, my voice betraying my unease. “ The girl I saw in those monitors was running, and it felt so…creepy.”

“ It was Halloween . Everything ’s creepy on Halloween ,” Isabel says, trying to reassure me. “ I doubt they’d do anything like that on a normal Saturday night.”

I nod, but my eyes drift to the window, lost in thought. Soon , I’ll be at the Whitmore estate again, searching for any clues about Camila’s death. If she lived there, there must be something, some evidence of her disappearance. I’m determined to find it, even if I have to sneak away and search on my own. Hopefully , no one catches me in the act.

In the six years I’ve been in Ebonridge , I’ve never found a way inside the Whitmore estate. It’s frustrating—the family is impossibly secretive, their parties even more discreet. If you don’t have an invitation from a Vanguard member or the family itself, you’re not getting in, no matter how hard you try.

Isabel eventually landed a part-time job at Vanguard as a waitress, just to get us closer. Finally , this past Halloween , we got our first real chance. When Isabel told me she’d managed to schmooze one of the members into inviting us, I almost cried. After all this time, we finally had a foot in the door. Tonight is my second—maybe last—chance.

As we approach the estate, the atmosphere around us shifts, growing more somber. The trees seem to close in, their branches arching like twisted fingers over the narrow road.

“ Thanks ,” I mutter to the Uber driver when he drops us off.

At the entrance, two men stand guard, their expressions unreadable. I instinctively step ahead of Isabel , protectiveness flaring up inside me. My heart pounds as one of them approaches us.

“ Name ?” he asks curtly.

“ Uh , Valeria . This is Isabel .”

Isabel chimes in smoothly. “ Yes . The RSVP should be under my last name: Soto . The invitation was from Mr . Montclair .”

I don’t miss Isabel’s slight flinch at the mention of his name. When I asked her if she could get us another invitation, I didn’t expect her to reach out to the same man who had led her upstairs on Halloween . She assured me it was our only option, but guilt gnaws at me, remembering how scared I found her that night.

The guard nods and steps aside. “ Right this way, Mesdemoiselles ,” he says, his voice dripping with an unsettling formality.

As we ascend the grand staircase, I take in the details of the mansion that were obscured by darkness the last time. The architecture is imposing, with archways that seem to stretch on endlessly. A chill runs through me, making my skin prickle. It reminds me of Gloomwood .

At the top, I reach for Isabel’s hand, seeking some comfort in her presence.

We exchange a final, tense glance before stepping into the unknown.

“ Well , who do we have here?” a sleazy voice slithers from my right. The man speaking is tall and broad-shouldered, with slicked-back hair. His eyes are dark and predatory, raking over us with intensity.

Another man, leaner and a bit taller, cuts in. “ Looks like fresh meat,” he sneers, his tone dripping with malice. A maniacal laugh escapes his lips, sending a chill down my spine.

Isabel and I stand in the foyer, flanked by two men wearing the same eerie masks I’d seen at the Halloween party. It must be some sort of rule to attend these gatherings incognito, likely to protect their identities. The masks, with their hollow eyes, only add to the suffocating atmosphere.

Suddenly , a third man appears from the shadows. He’s striking, with an aristocratic air, his blonde hair perfectly styled and his tailored suit fitting him like a glove. He exudes a cold, calculating charm as he steps forward. “ I’ve never seen you here before, ladies.” His voice is smooth but laced with condescension. He takes our hands, lifting them to his lips and planting a kiss on each of our knuckles. “ I’m Theodore Whitmore , but you can call me Theo . These are my brothers, Maxwell and Julian .”

Maxwell lets out a small chuckle. “ Not actual brothers,” he adds with a smirk.

Theodore turns to scowl at him—at least, I think it’s a scowl beneath that mask. “ Thanks for the clarification,” he snaps.

Maxwell just laughs and shrugs while Julian remains silent, his eyes fixated on Isabel and me.

“ What are your names?” Theo asks, his gaze lingering on Isabel a second too long. The others’ eyes are on her too, their interest palpable. What the hell is going on ?

Isabel shifts uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing a deep red. “ My name is Isabel . This is Valeria ,” she says, her voice a bit shaky as she gestures to me.

Theo nods, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “ Welcome to Latibulum Noctis ,” he announces, spreading his arms wide, as if to embrace the night itself. “ Tonight , leave your inhibitions at the door and enter with an open mind. I promise we’ll show you a good time.” His grin is almost delirious.

“ Follow me,” he commands, turning to lead the way deeper into the house.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lies ahead. No matter what happens tonight, I have to stay focused on why I’m here. If letting go of my inhibitions is what it takes to uncover the truth about Camila , then so be it. She’s worth the risk.

As we follow the three men into the dark hallway, I lean over to Isabel , who still seems distracted. “ You were enjoying the attention, weren’t you?” I mumble with a teasing grin.

She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eye, her lips curling into a small smile. “ Maybe .”

“ You little slut,” I whisper with a chuckle.

“ Hey , I’m here for a good time, not a long time,” she replies, her tone proud as she nudges me playfully.

I tug her closer. “ As long as you promise to be safe.”

“ Yes , Mommy ,” she teases, her grin widening.

“ Oh my God . Are you ever going to stop with that shit?” I groan, rolling my eyes.

“ Nope !” she quips, clearly enjoying herself.

“ Whatever . Just remember, if we get separated and you need help, text me our keyword,” I remind her, my tone more serious now.

“ Yes , I’ll make sure to pull out my phone and text you while I’m being murdered,” she says in a mockingly dramatic tone.

I stop in my tracks, shocked by her flippancy. “ Isabel Lucia Soto . Be serious for two fucking seconds,” I hiss, my heart pounding in my chest.

“ Fine , fine. I’ll make sure to reach out if anything looks sketchy,” she concedes, her tone softening when she sees the worry in my eyes.

We round a corner and enter a grand hall, where more people are gathered, talking and drinking. It’s an intimate party, but there are at least twenty other people here, most of them men in those spine-chilling masks. The sense of danger hangs thick in the air. We are really outnumbered.

A server glides over to us, holding a silver tray with flutes of champagne. The bubbles fizz enticingly in the crystal glasses, but something about the scene makes me hesitate. I exchange a glance with Isabel , who looks just as uncertain. Still , we each take a glass, the cold metal of the tray brushing against my fingers as I accept it. The waiter’s face is expressionless, his eyes vacant, as if he’s just another part of the decor.

With our drinks in hand, we scan the room. The other women present are a mixed crowd. Some hold themselves with a haughty air, their noses slightly upturned as they gaze down at us, as if being at a Whitmore party is some kind of exclusive privilege they’ve earned.

But others, hidden or standing awkwardly near the walls, paint a different picture. Their eyes dart nervously around the room, and they cling to their glasses as if for dear life. They look frightened, their faces pale and tense, as if they’ve been coerced into attending this event. I catch one girl’s eye—she looks like she’s barely out of her teens, her hand trembling as she brings her glass to her lips.

Suddenly , an older man with graying hair steps forward, commanding the room’s attention with a loud, authoritative clearing of his throat. His suit is impeccably tailored, his posture straight, and there’s an air of long-standing power around him.

The longer I stare at him, the more recognition hits. It’s Lionel Whitmore , Camila’s adoptive father. I’m rooted to the spot.

The conversations die down as everyone turns to face him, the room falling into a tense silence.

“ Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “ Welcome to tonight’s gathering. As always, it’s a pleasure to see so many familiar faces...and a few new ones,” he adds, his eyes briefly sweeping over Isabel and me, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

“ For tonight’s entertainment,” he continues, his tone growing darker, “we have chosen a game both thrilling and exhilarating. I’m sure many of you are familiar with it.” He pauses, letting the anticipation build, and I feel the room collectively hold its breath.

“ We will be playing...hide and seek.”

My heart drops, and I glance at Isabel , who is now visibly tense, her earlier bravado fading. Lionel’s smile widens at the reaction his announcement elicits, and the men in the room exchange eager looks, their excitement barely contained.

“ The rules are simple,” he continues, his eyes gleaming with something almost sinister. “ You hide, and when the clock strikes midnight, we seek. But be warned—those who are found... Well , let’s just say that’s when the real fun begins.” His chuckle is low and menacing, and it reverberates through the room, chilling me to the core.

I grip Isabel’s hand tightly, feeling the cool sweat on her palm as we stand there, our nerves fraying with each passing second.

“ Looks like we’re in for a real treat,” Isabel whispers.

The game might seem harmless in theory, but in this context, it feels ominous.

Mr . Whitmore , still standing in the center of the room, raises a glass in a toast. “ To a night of thrills and surprises,” he announces with a grin. “ May the best hiders win.”

His speech is followed by a chorus of muted laughter and a few nervous giggles. Isabel and I exchange a worried glance.

“ Do you think we should stick together?” Isabel asks.

We watch as the guests scatter, disappearing down shadowy corridors.

“ Definitely ,” I reply, trying to keep my own anxiety in check. “ We need to stay close and keep an eye out for anything strange.”

As we move deeper into the mansion, the sense of isolation becomes more pronounced.

We find ourselves in a room that appears to be a library, its shelves lined with ancient-looking books and dusty relics. The heavy air seems to press in on us, and the silence is occasionally broken by the distant sounds of footsteps and hushed voices.

“ I’m starting to feel like we’re in one of those old horror films,” Isabel whispers.

“ Please don’t.”

“ What ? I’m just saying. It feels like we’re being hunted. I’ve seen this before.”

“ Isa ,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “ Let’s just keep moving and stay out of sight.”

Isabel chuckles. “ Okay , Mommy .”

I grab a book from the shelf and toss it at her, narrowly missing. Her laughter only grows louder.

Grabbing her arm, I pull her along as we move through the library, passing a grand fireplace. The mantle is cluttered with strange trinkets, framed portraits of grim-faced ancestors watching us from the walls. I spot a small door partially hidden behind a large leather chair and motion for Isabel to follow me.

We slip through and find ourselves in a narrow passageway. The walls are lined with old portraits that seem to watch us with disdainful eyes. It’s cramped and the air is musty.

“ Do you think this is a good place to hide?” Isabel asks.

“ It’s as good as any,” I reply, trying to sound reassuring. “ If anything feels off, we get out of here and regroup.”

We huddle in the tight space, hoping no one finds us.

We’ve been hiding for what feels like hours.

My legs are tucked up against my chest, but I don’t dare move. I can feel Isabel beside me, her breathing slow and steady, though I know she’s just as tense as I am. My heart hammers in my chest, and I close my eyes, willing it to quiet down.

The sound of a clock chimes unexpectedly. One , two, three… It echoes through the walls, each ring stretching the silence tighter. Twelve rings. Midnight . The signal.

Isabel places a hand on my arm, her grip tight.

I push myself up slowly, legs shaking as the blood rushes back into them. My muscles scream in protest, but there’s no time to linger. The search begins now. My fingers tremble as I press them against the hidden latch we came through earlier. I slide the panel aside, just a crack, enough to peer out. Nothing . The room is empty.

Isabel leans forward, her hair brushing my arm, and I can hear her barely-there exhale of relief.

At that moment, footsteps echo in the near distance, steadily approaching before halting abruptly. A tense silence follows, and I freeze, trying to remain as still as possible.

After a few seconds, the footsteps resume, moving away from us. I let out a slow exhale.

“ Let’s stay here a bit longer, then make our way back to the main hall. I need to start looking for clues.”

Isabel nods, her eyes wide with unease.

But then, a group of masked men strides past us. My breath catches in my throat as I see the glint of metal in their hands—knives, long and wickedly sharp. They move with a predatory grace; their intentions clear in the way they hold their weapons.

Isabel’s gasp slips out before she can stop it, and I lock in place, silently praying they didn’t hear. To my great dismay, one of the men abruptly halts, turning slowly toward us. I feel Isabel’s panic radiating off her as she presses herself against the wall.

As the man turns, my heart sinks. It’s one of the brothers we met earlier, the one who introduced himself with that unnerving sneer— Theodore . His forehead scrunches behind the mask as he scans the area, suspicion flickering in his gaze.

Why are they carrying knives? The question pounds in my head, making it hard to think. This is supposed to be a game, but the way they’re acting—like they’re hunting—doesn’t add up. Was Isabel right?

He seems to look right at us, and for a moment, I’m sure we’ve been spotted. But he shrugs it off, turning back to the others. They begin to walk away, their footsteps fading, but something’s wrong. They vanish from view far too quickly. The corridor stretches out ahead of them—they should still be in sight, but it’s as if they’ve disappeared into thin air.

“ What the hell?” I whisper.

Before either of us can move, one of the brothers appears out of nowhere, his hand clamping down on Isabel’s arm.

She screams, the sound piercing the eerie silence, and I lunge forward, desperately trying to grab onto her. My fingers brush against hers, but he’s too fast, dragging her with a chilling ease. Isabel kicks and struggles, her legs flailing as she tries to break free, but Theodore just laughs—a dark, cruel sound that fills me with dread.

“ Let her go!” I yell, my voice raw with panic as I reach for her again, but it’s too late. The other two brothers materialize from the shadows, each grabbing one of her legs, hoisting her up as if she weighs nothing.

“ No ! Isabel !” I cry out, chasing after them, my heart racing as I try to keep up. It’s like they’re moving faster than humanly possible, pulling her further and further away from me. “ Why aren’t you taking me too?” I shout, desperation and confusion knotting in my stomach.

A strong arm wraps around my waist, jerking me backward. A leather glove clamps over my mouth, muffling my startled yelp. I thrash wildly, but the grip is unyielding, and I’m pulled against a solid, immovable body.

Fear paralyzes me, but something about this hold is terrifyingly familiar. My body instinctively molds into my captor’s, like I’m supposed to be there, and that realization makes my blood run cold. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I try to think of a way out, but my mind is a blur of panic.

The gloved hand tightens around my throat, the leather pressing against my skin, cutting off my air supply. I recognize this grip. It’s her . It must be her.

My vision begins to blur as I struggle to breathe, to stay conscious, but my strength is fading. I wriggle against the hold, adrenaline surging through me, but my assailant is too powerful. Fear shoots through me, but there’s an odd thrill too, an unexpected rush.

With the last bit of energy I can muster, I bite down hard on the fingers over my mouth. The person lets out a sharp hiss of pain, their grip loosening just enough for me to wrench myself free.

The world tilts as I spin, panic rising like bile in my throat as I come face-to-face with the woman from the basement. My next inhale falters as I take her in, the same skull mask covering half her face.

Her eyes, dark and penetrating, seem to bore into mine, sending prickles down my spine. Goosebumps rise on my skin despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

Our chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between us heavy with tension. Time seems to stand still as we size each other up.

“ Come with me,” she says after a few silent beats.