Chapter 2
The second-floor corridor was a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the ballroom. It was a long, cavernous hallway lined with heavy oak doors, antique side tables, and massive oil paintings illuminated by bright, warm brass sconces. The thick Persian runner absorbed the soft tread of Emma’s flats as she walked down the hall, scanning for empty glasses. The air up here felt strangely stagnant, heavy with a silence that made her skin prickle.
She collected two empty crystal flutes from a mahogany credenza near the master suite. As she turned to head back toward the service stairs, a sound froze the blood in her veins.
It was a whimper. Faint, muffled, and desperately weak.
Emma stopped, her breath catching in her throat. She stood perfectly still, her eyes darting across the empty, brightly lit corridor. For a second, she thought it might just be the wind rattling the ancient window panes. Then, the sound came again—a tiny, raspy gasp for air, followed by a soft, frantic scratching.
It was coming from inside the wall.
Emma dropped the crystal flutes onto her silver tray with a sharp clatter and rushed toward the sound. It emanated from behind an oversized, heavy oil painting depicting a bright, sunlit hunting scene. Driven by pure instinct, Emma grabbed the heavy gilded frame with her gloved hands and dragged the oversized painting aside. It scraped violently against the floral wallpaper, revealing a section of dark, unpainted brick and a narrow, dark iron vent seamlessly integrated into the woodwork.
Emma dropped to her knees, ignoring the pain as they hit the hardwood floor. She pressed her ear to the cold iron of the hidden vent. The scratching grew louder, frantic and panicked.
Through the narrow slits of the iron grate, movement caught her eye. Tiny, dust-covered fingers pushed weakly against the metal. Her heart nearly stopped. It was Ethan.
"Ethan?" Emma whispered, her voice trembling. "Ethan, is that you?"
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A tiny face pressed against the grate from the terrifying darkness within. His fair skin was coated in a thick layer of gray dust, his rosy cheeks stained with dried tears. He was impossibly weak, barely able to keep his head up.
"Please..." Ethan begged, his voice cracked by sheer exhaustion and unspeakable terror. "...get me out of here."
