As she hesitated on the doorstep, she shivered from the unseasonal chill in the air. Two minutes passed, and no one answered her knock, so she decided to try the door handle. It was unlocked. Should she go in? If she did, would she regret it later? Probably. Did she care? No. She needed this story. She wasn’t afraid to tiptoe along the boundary of right and wrong to achieve it.

After another moment of hesitation, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, into a high-ceilinged hallway with surprisingly thick red carpet. It smelled musty. The walls were bare save for faded floral wallpaper, and the house was eerily silent. It felt like the setting of a bad horror film, the sort with bucketloads of fake blood and corpses falling from the ceiling. She shoved her hands into her armpits, arms hugging her chest as she walked forwards. The door swung shut, closing her in.

“Hello,” she called out, reluctant to go any farther from the exit. “Is anyone home?”

Hearing nothing, she tiptoed down the hall, passing at least half a dozen closed doors. She imagined cavernous bedchambers with canopied beds and fireplaces set into the walls. At the end of the hall, a door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, she peered into the darkness. When her eyes adjusted, she could see a coffee table and an enormous couch in the center of the room. A bundle of newspaper with a few greasy chips lay on the coffee table.

A soft rustle startled her, and she shrieked, her hand leaping to cover her racing heart.

“What the hell?”

Too late, Aria realized a person was sleeping on the couch. Or rather, a person had been sleeping on the couch. A large body rose from it, outlined by the light filtering through the murky glass. She backed away quickly and considered running for the exit. Coming here had been a very bad idea. Coming inside had been an even worse one, the kind of thing that got her into trouble on a regular basis. Her brothers were always telling her she had no sense, and she was beginning to believe it.

“Stop.” The voice was so commanding, she felt it right down to her toes, and they became glued to the ground. “What are you doing here?”

One mystery solved. Now that he was upright, she could confirm that the man on the couch was indeed Elijah Lockwood. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem pleased to see her.

“Um... I’m...” Aria floundered, disconcerted at being alone with him in a dark room. The situation was both awkward and alarmingly intimate. “Is it all right if I turn on the light?”

“Please do.”