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External POV
Jackson cast one last anxious glance at Avery before stepping out onto the terrace.
"Stay here. Don't move, okay?"
She nodded vaguely, not really listening. Her gaze remained fixed somewhere behind him, still caught by the icy sensation left by the sound in the hallway.
Jackson hesitated for a second, then stepped through the door. The wood creaked slightly before closing behind him, letting the house sink back into a heavy silence.
Avery stayed still for a few seconds.
Then she moved abruptly.
Her legs protested immediately, weak and numb, but she ignored the pain. Her breath came in short gasps as she crossed the living room at a hurried pace. Every heartbeat echoed too loudly in her chest.
Her father's study.
It was there.
She closed the door behind her, as if the simple act could shield her from the outside world. Her fingers still trembled as they brushed over the wood of the desk, searching for the hidden mechanism.
This time, she knew exactly what she was doing.
No more hesitation. No more doubt.
Her fingers found the invisible notch. She drew a deep breath and pressed.
A sharp click echoed through the room.
The panel slid open slowly, revealing the dark opening of the passage. Avery froze for a fraction of a second, seized despite herself by the unreal sensation—as if this place had never been meant to exist.
Then she descended.
Each step seemed to drain the little strength she had left. The air grew colder, denser. When she reached the bottom, the small underground library revealed itself in an almost religious silence.
The shelves. The books. The frozen morning mess.
Her gaze swept the room, torn between fascination and unease.
But she did not linger.
The notebook. The keys.
She moved toward the table.
The chest was still there, resting on the floor like an abandoned secret. The notebook lay exactly where she had left it. Her fingers closed on it almost feverishly.
It was real.
The feel of the leather beneath her fingers made her breath falter. A strange warmth spread through her chest as her mind finally accepted the truth.
Then she searched for the keys.
They were gone.
Her heart raced.
She leaned down, searched under the table, sifted through papers, shifted fallen books. The disorder grew under her hurried movements.
Nothing.
She knelt, panting, her hands trembling against the cold floor. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to piece together her memories.
Daniel in front of her. The blood-soaked fabric. The sound of breaking plates. The panic. The rush toward their mother.
She replayed the scene like a rewound tape.
Again. And again.
Then an image emerged.
Daniel. His fleeting glance. His quick hand. The brief moment when she had turned away.
The keys.
"The idiot…" she whispered.
The metallic sound she had heard earlier in Daniel's room.
That was it.
They had never left the house.
A bitter relief crossed her face. All she had risked… for something that had already been nearby.
She clutched the notebook to her chest and rose slowly. Her foot hit the chest.
She paused.
An intuition. A dull fear.
She lifted it despite its weight and took it with her.
Then she climbed back up.
The passage slid shut behind her with a muffled glide.
Avery remained still in the study for a moment. The silence seemed different here. More fragile. As if the house itself were holding its breath.
She opened the door.
And stepped out.
The notebook pressed against her chest. The chest heavy in her arms.
She closed the door gently behind her.
When she turned—
She froze.
Gabriel was there.
Standing in the hallway. Motionless. Dark eyes fixed on the chest.
His gaze slowly drifted to the notebook she was awkwardly trying to hide against her body.
Then back up to her eyes.
He looked at her, and that single look already carried a thousand questions. A thousand reproaches. And a barely restrained anger.
Avery's heart skipped a beat.
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