Chapter 4 A Whisper in the Dark

Jack stood in the center of his living room, the flickering light from the fire casting shadows on the walls. The night had settled over Blackthorn Bay like a heavy blanket, and the storm that had been brewing on the horizon finally arrived, lashing against the windows with sheets of rain. The low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, but it did little to distract Jack from the knot of unease twisting in his gut.

He had been thinking about Emma ever since their encounter on the cliff. She was different from the person the town's whispers had painted her to be-more fragile in some ways, but also braver than he had expected. He hadn't been able to shake the look in her eyes when she'd talked about the house-how lost she had seemed, how desperate for answers. And that had stirred something in him, a feeling he hadn't had in a long time.

He'd been keeping his distance, unsure of how much to get involved, but something told him Emma was going to need more help than she realized. This house-this town-didn't let go of its secrets easily, and the Hartley family had been tangled in those secrets for generations.

Jack knew that better than most.

The wind howled outside, and he pushed away from the window, pacing across the room. His thoughts kept circling back to Emma, to the storm she was unknowingly walking into. The Hartley name had carried weight in Blackthorn Bay for years, but it wasn't just because of their wealth. There were darker things at play in that family, things people only whispered about in the dead of night.

As if on cue, the phone on the table beside him rang, cutting through the heavy silence. Jack's brow furrowed as he crossed the room to answer it, wondering who could be calling this late.

"Yeah?" he answered, his voice gruff.

For a moment, there was only silence on the other end, just the faint crackle of static. Jack's hand tightened on the receiver. "Hello?"

Then, a voice-a soft, almost breathless whisper. "Jack..."

He recognized the voice immediately. His stomach tightened. "Emma?"

"I-I need your help," Emma's voice trembled on the other end, barely audible over the crackle of the storm. "Something... someone was at the house."

Jack straightened, his entire body going still. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"I don't know," Emma's words came faster now, panic threading through her voice. "There was a man-he showed up at the door, but he didn't say who he was. He said we needed to talk, but something about him-Jack, I just didn't feel right. I shut the door on him, but I don't know if he's still out there. The house feels wrong..."

Jack didn't wait to hear more. He grabbed his coat and keys from the hook by the door, already moving toward his truck. "Lock the doors and stay inside. I'm coming."

He could hear her ragged breath on the other end, a shaky exhale of relief. "Thank you."

Jack hung up without another word, his mind racing as he stepped out into the storm. The rain pelted him the moment he stepped outside, but he ignored it, his focus solely on getting to Emma. Whatever had happened tonight, she was in trouble. And Blackthorn Manor was the last place you wanted to be when things went wrong.

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Emma paced the front room of the mansion, her nerves on edge, her mind racing with a million questions. She had locked the door after the man left, but the uneasy feeling hadn't gone away. In fact, it had only grown stronger, settling deep in her bones like a chill she couldn't shake. The house felt... wrong. There was no other way to describe it. The shadows seemed to stretch further than they should, the creaking of the old floorboards unnaturally loud in the empty halls.

She hadn't even gotten a good look at the man's face-his hat had cast his features in shadow-but something about his presence had been unsettling. He had known her name, had stood there on her grandmother's doorstep as though he belonged. But there had been no warmth in his voice, no explanation for why he was there.

She couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been watching her even before he knocked on the door.

Emma pulled the old wool blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, trying to ward off the cold that seemed to seep in from the walls. She felt ridiculous for panicking, for calling Jack, but the moment that man had appeared, her fight or flight instincts had kicked in-an overwhelming need to get away, to shut him out. She couldn't explain it, but something about him had made her feel like a trapped animal, cornered in her own home.

She glanced toward the door, listening for any signs of movement outside. The rain hammered against the windows, the wind rattling the panes. She couldn't hear anything over the storm, but that only made her more anxious. What if he was still out there, watching?

Emma's thoughts drifted back to the journal she had found in the attic earlier that evening. Her grandmother's cryptic entries, the references to shadows and secrets-it had all seemed strange at the time, but now it felt like there was some sense to it after all.

She shuddered, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. Her grandmother knew something-something that had to do with this house, with their family. The journal had hinted at a secret that had to be kept, a bloodline that had to be protected. But from what? And why hadn't her grandmother told her?

The more Emma thought about it, the more the pieces of the puzzle seemed to scatter, falling further apart instead of coming together. Her grandmother's death, the sudden inheritance of the house, the strange feeling that had settled over Blackthorn Manor since she arrived-it all felt connected somehow, but she couldn't see how the threads intertwined.

A loud knock echoed through the house, startling her from her thoughts. Emma jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. She froze, listening. Another knock-this one more forceful, insistent.

"Emma, its Jack."

Her body sagged in relief. She hurried to the door, pulling it open to reveal Jack standing on the doorstep, his coat drenched from the rain. He stepped inside quickly, shaking off the water as he closed the door behind him.

"You alright?" he asked, his eyes scanning her face, his expression tense with concern.

"I'm fine," she said, though her voice still wavered slightly. "I just... I didn't know what else to do. That man-he wasn't right, Jack."

Jack's jaw tightened, and he nodded. "I'm glad you called me. Tell me exactly what happened."

Emma recounted the brief encounter, her words tumbling out in a rush. As she spoke, Jack's expression grew darker, his brow furrowing as if he were piecing something together.

"He didn't say who he was?" Jack asked when she finished.

"No. He just said we needed to talk, but he didn't explain why. I-I didn't trust him."

"You were right not to." Jack's voice was grim, and when he looked at her, there was something unreadable in his gaze. "I don't know who he is, but if someone's showing up here unannounced, at night, they're not up to any good."

Emma swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over her. "Do you think he's still out there?"

Jack glanced toward the window, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know. But I'm going to check. Lock the door behind me."

"Jack-" Emma began, her heart leaping with worry, but he cut her off with a firm look.

"I won't go far. Just stay inside."

She nodded, though anxiety churned in her stomach as she watched him head back out into the storm. The door clicked shut behind him, and she immediately turned the lock, her fingers trembling. Her pulse raced as she moved toward the window, peeking out between the heavy curtains. She could barely make out Jack's figure through the sheets of rain, his dark coat blending into the shadows.

The wind howled, rattling the windows in their frames, and Emma hugged herself tighter, the unease gnawing at her with each passing second. She hadn't realized how much she had come to rely on Jack's calm, steady presence in such a short time. The mansion felt even larger, even emptier, without him inside. She hated how vulnerable that made her feel.

Minutes stretched on in silence, each second dragging longer than the last. She forced herself to pace the room, her thoughts racing. What if the man had gone? What if he'd been nothing more than a strange visitor, some lost soul looking for a place to stay? But something in her gut told her that wasn't the case. There was a reason he'd come to Blackthorn Manor tonight, and it wasn't just a coincidence.

A sudden loud thud echoed from the back of the house, making her jump. Her heart pounded as she spun around, eyes wide. It had come from the rear door-the one leading out to the garden. She hadn't locked it earlier.

Panic surged through her as the sound came again-this time louder, more deliberate. Someone was trying to get in.

Her feet felt like lead as she moved toward the back hallway, her mind screaming at her to run, to hide. But she couldn't just stand there. She reached the end of the hall just in time to see the door rattle on its hinges, the old wood groaning under the force.

A single, horrible thought cut through the panic: He's back.

Emma's breath caught in her throat as she fumbled with the lock, her fingers shaking uncontrollably. The door rattled again, harder this time, as though whoever was on the other side knew how close they were to getting in. Finally, her fingers found the lock, twisting it into place just as another loud thud reverberated through the hall.

She stepped back, her pulse racing in her ears, her back pressed against the wall. The door rattled once more, then-silence.

For a moment, Emma couldn't breathe. She stood there, frozen, her mind racing with a thousand possibilities. Had he given up? Was he waiting outside, watching, biding his time?

She didn't know how long she stood there, her breath shallow, her body trembling. The storm continued to rage outside, the wind howling and the rain lashing against the house, but the person on the other side of the door had gone quiet.

Then, just as she began to feel the slightest sense of relief, she heard it-a faint, almost imperceptible whisper.

"Emma..."

Her blood ran cold. The voice was soft, barely audible over the storm, but she heard it clearly. Her name, spoken in the same low, unsettling tone she had heard before.

"Emma..."

She backed away from the door, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mind screamed at her to run, to get as far away from the house as possible, but her feet were rooted to the floor, her body frozen with fear.

"Emma... let me in."

The whisper was closer now, as though the voice were right on the other side of the door, pressing against the wood. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist around her, the house itself growing darker, more oppressive.

Just as she felt the panic rising to a fever pitch, the front door flew open, and Jack burst into the hallway, his expression dark and fierce.

"Emma!" he called, rushing toward her.

The sound of his voice snapped her out of her paralysis, and she ran toward him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "He's here," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He's outside."

Jack didn't hesitate. He strode toward the back door, his jaw set, his hand reaching for the heavy iron poker leaning against the wall. Emma watched as he threw the door open, stepping out into the storm without a second thought. She followed him to the threshold, her heart in her throat, but when she looked out into the darkness, there was no one there.

The garden was empty, the storm battering the trees and bushes, but the man-whoever he was-was gone.

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