Page 42 of Whispers of Deception

As long as they were out of his way, appearing perfectly fine in the media—Darren Hale couldn’t care less.

Sebastian’s friends were all he’d ever had.

They were more than friends, they were family.

Augustus shook his head, putting the car into drive, “Love you too, man,” he muttered.

Suspect List:

Professor Jameson

The Mystery Guy

Thomas Montgomery

Orion Blake??

Chapter Eighteen

Lilia’s dreams were not of comforting landscapes or familiar faces, but of a darkness so thick it smothered her breath. The world around her was a blur. The lines between reality and nightmare were indistinguishable. The light from the hallway crept in under the door, casting long, wavering shadows across her bedroom. She stirred, half-conscious, when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone rummaging through her things. Her eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented. She tried to focus, but the world was a blur of dark shapes and muted colors.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice barely a whisper, thick with sleep and confusion.

A figure, silhouetted against the dim glow of the hallway light, turned to face her. It was Willow, but she looked different, not at all how she remembered her. Her hair was matted with blood, and deep gashes marred her face and forearms. Her clothes were torn and filthy, smeared with dirt and grime.

“Shh,” Willow hissed, raising a trembling finger to her lips. “He’s coming.”

Lilia’s heart shuttered. She could barely make out Willow’s features, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. The distancebetween them seemed to stretch into infinity, but she could see the terror etched into her face. Her body was trembling as she clutched at the edge of Lilia’s dresser.

“Willow.” Lilia’s voice broke as she struggled to sit up. “Is this real?”

Willow shook her head slowly. Her moments were almost mechanical. Her eyes were wide and distant, filled with a silent scream.

“Who killed you, Willow?”

“You’re looking in all the wrong places, Lilia,” Willow replied, her voice echoing, as if the walls themselves were whispering to her.

Lilia’s mind spun, her heart pounded against her ribcage, her pulse seeming to reverberate against her ears. “You have to help us. We’re going to go to jail for this, Willow. You have to tell me who killed you.”

The wooden floor creaked ominously, and Willow wailed, a haunting sound that seemed to vibrate through the walls.

“Willow, what’s happening?” Lilia stumbled forward, her feet unsteady beneath her.

“He’s coming,” Willow whimpered, retreating further into the shadows. “He’s going to kill me. You have to help me.”

“Who, Willow? Who’s going to kill you?” Lilia’s voice trembled with desperation.

The floor creaked again, louder this time, and from the darkness emerged a figure—a man dressed in black, his face obscured, moving closer to Willow with slow, deliberate steps.

“You’re looking in all the wrong places. You can’t trust anyone. Nothing is as it seems, Lilia.” Willow shook her head. “Help me!” she begged, her voice rising as the man inched closer.

“I can’t—I don’t know what to do!” she cried, her hands reaching out for Willow, but finding only air.

“He’s coming, I have to go.” Willow’s voice broke.

“Willow? Willow, wait?—”

But before she could finish, the darkness swallowed Willow, leaving Lilia alone in the suffocating silence.

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