I had barely stepped out of the banquet hall, reaching for my phone to book a cab, when a hand grabbed my wrist.
I turned, already irritated, only to see Abigail standing there, her expression unreadable.
Without a word, she pulled me toward her car, her grip firm.
I let out a low chuckle, amused by her persistence.
"What's this about, Ms. Bardot?" I asked coolly, raising an eyebrow.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stared at me, as if searching for something in my eyes, something she couldn't quite understand.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"What was that back there? What happened to you? You've become… like this."
Her voice held a mix of frustration, confusion, and something else—something she wouldn't admit.
I smirked, shaking my head as I stepped back slightly, forcing her to let go of my wrist.
"I'm exactly what you made me, Ms. Bardot." I paused, letting my words sink in before adding, "And right now, I have work to do. You can go ahead and comfort your Joshua."
Each word hit her like a dagger.
I could see it in the way her fingers twitched, the way her lips parted slightly before pressing into a firm line.
Without another word, I slid off my coat, revealing the gun holster strapped to my side.
Her eyes widened. "You have guns?"
Her voice trembled slightly, and I couldn't tell if it was fear, concern, or disbelief.
I tilted my head, watching her reaction closely.
"In my line of work, it's necessary," I replied simply. "Now, if that's all—"
"I'm coming with you."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me." Her voice was firm. "And you won't refuse."
Now, this was unexpected.
I studied her carefully, trying to gauge her motives. This woman was more complicated than the novel ever described.
I leaned slightly closer, lowering my voice.
"Ms. Bardot, you do realize where I'm going, don't you?" My tone was slow, deliberate. "I'm heading to a mansion where people have been disappearing. You want to come with me?"
She crossed her arms. "I don't need your permission."
I sighed.
"This is exactly why I never married in my past two lives," I muttered under my breath.
She ignored me. "Get in the car. We're leaving."
Now she was ordering me around?
She really doesn't know when to quit.
I exhaled sharply, shaking my head.
"Fine. Let's go, then."
As we got into the car, I pulled out the case file from my inner suit pocket and skimmed through it once more.
The mansion wasn't supernatural—at least, not from what I had gathered. The evidence pointed toward something far more human—possibly human trafficking disguised as a ghost story to keep people away.
Which meant I didn't have to worry about revealing my true abilities in front of Abigail. My guns and martial arts would be more than enough.
Still, I cast a sidelong glance at her as she drove, her fingers gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.
"You're serious about this?" I asked, breaking the silence.
She kept her eyes on the road. "Yes."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
"I don't know," she admitted finally.
I smirked. "Honest for once. That's new."
She shot me a glare. "Shut up, Samuel."
I chuckled but said nothing more.
Because deep down, I knew.
She was curious. She was starting to see the difference. The man she had once broken wasn't the same anymore.
And that terrified her.
The Cursed Mansion – A Test of Fear
The car came to a slow halt, the headlights casting a dim glow over the abandoned mansion ahead. The structure was massive, its ancient pillars covered in ivy, and its once-grand entrance now cracked and decayed. The surrounding trees swayed in the cold night breeze, their twisted branches resembling skeletal fingers reaching toward the sky.
The air was thick, heavy, carrying a strange stillness that didn't belong. Even without my enhanced senses, I could feel it—something wasn't right here.
I turned slightly, glancing at Abigail.
She was gripping the steering wheel too tightly, her knuckles pale. Her breathing was controlled, but I could see it—the flicker of fear in her eyes.
"Ms. Bardot," I said, my voice calm, formal. "If you want, you can go back."
She snapped her head toward me, her jaw tightening. "I'm not a coward, Samuel."
I raised an eyebrow, amused. "I never said you were."
She exhaled sharply, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Let's just get this over with."
I stepped out of the car first, my shoes crunching against the gravel driveway. Abigail followed a moment later, her heels clicking softly as she approached.
She stopped just a few steps from the mansion's entrance, staring at the massive, rotting wooden doors that loomed ahead.
"It looks... different in person," she murmured.
"Everything does." I adjusted the gun holster under my suit jacket, making sure my weapons were within reach. "It's not too late to change your mind."
She scoffed, crossing her arms. "You wish. I'm seeing this through."
I let out a low chuckle. "Suit yourself."
I turned to the door, placing a hand on the cold wood.
Something about this place felt off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Was it just the rumors and stories playing tricks on my mind, or was there something more?
Only one way to find out.
I pushed the door open, stepping inside.
Abigail followed.
And the moment we crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut behind us—on their own.