Chapter Fifty: The Silent Visitor
The old house creaked and groaned with every step Charlie took, as if it was protesting her very presence. The floorboards beneath her feet were warped with age, and the air inside felt heavy with dust and neglect. The house had clearly been abandoned for a long time, and it showed in every corner—the peeling wallpaper, the broken windows, the sagging roof. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was that it was away from the pack. It was isolated.
It was where she had to be.
Charlie sighed deeply, glancing around the small room she had been left in. The bed was simple but clean, freshly made by Liam, who had done his best to prepare a place for her despite the circumstances. Her gaze drifted to her own clothing, which was stiff with dried blood, clinging uncomfortably to her skin. The sight of it made her stomach twist with nausea.
I should have asked for clean clothes, she thought, mentally berating herself. It wasn’t like Liam hadn’t been ready to help her with anything she needed, but seeing the pain in his eyes, the weight of everything they were both carrying, had left her too stunned to think clearly. Now, she was left with nothing but the blood-soaked clothes on her back and the cold, empty house surrounding her.
Her fingers itched to peel off the filthy garments, but there was no running water here. No way to wash off the blood and grime that clung to her. She could feel it, sticky against her skin, a constant reminder of the fight with Leah. A reminder of the infection.
Charlie sighed again and looked toward the bed, knowing that she would have to climb in despite the state of her clothes. The thought of staining the clean sheets with the remnants of Leah’s blood made her cringe, but what other option did she have? Stripping down would leave her vulnerable to the cold that had already started to creep into the room.
I can’t stay like this, she thought, running a hand through her tangled hair. I need clean clothes. I need warmth. I need…
Her mind wandered to Liam, to the way he had looked at her before he left. The pain in his eyes had been unbearable to witness. She had wanted to reach out, to tell him it would be okay, but how could she promise something like that? How could she make him believe everything would be fine when she wasn’t sure of it herself?
She let out another sigh and moved toward the bed. The house was colder than she had expected. It would have been nice if Liam had built a fire before he left, but she couldn’t fault him for forgetting. He had been just as rattled by the events of the night as she had been, if not more so.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. I’ll figure it out.
The house was warmer than being outside, but not by much. The air felt damp, heavy with the weight of the crumbling walls and sagging roof. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was shelter. And at this point, that was all she could ask for.
Just as she started to drift into thought, a scraping noise broke through the silence, pulling her from her brooding. The sound was faint at first, but unmistakable. It was coming from the roof, something pulling and scraping across the broken tiles above her head.
Charlie froze, her heart racing. Her immediate thought was that someone—or something—was on the roof. Maybe the Moon Goddess had sent an assassin to end her suffering before it could truly begin. Or maybe it was Leah’s vengeful spirit, come to finish what she started.
The scraping grew louder, followed by a strange pulling noise, as if something—or someone—was trying to crawl down the chimney. Charlie’s eyes widened. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as she stared at the fireplace.
Is something coming for me?
Her body tensed, ready to bolt from the room if the need arose, but just as suddenly as the noise had started, it stopped. The silence that followed was even more unsettling, leaving her on edge as her mind raced with possibilities.
She didn’t have time to dwell on it for long, though, as the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears. Someone was walking down the hallway outside the room, their steps slow and deliberate. Her heart leaped into her throat, the fear of what—or who—was coming next sending a jolt of panic through her.
But then, a familiar scent hit her senses. It was faint at first, but unmistakable. Luther.
Charlie let out a small breath of relief, but it was quickly replaced by tension as she realized she didn’t want to face him. Not now. She hurried to the other side of the bed, instinctively putting distance between them. She wasn’t sure why, but the thought of being near him, with all the blood still on her skin, made her feel exposed. Guilty, even.
Luther entered the room without a word, his expression hard, almost unreadable. His eyes flicked to her briefly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he made his way to the fireplace, a bundle of wood in his arms. He knelt down and began building a fire, his movements deliberate and precise, as if the task were the only thing grounding him in the moment.
Charlie watched him in silence, her arms wrapped around her waist. The warmth of the fire slowly began to fill the room as the flames caught, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The crackling of the wood was the only sound in the room, and for a moment, Charlie allowed herself to feel the warmth seep into her skin.
It must have been him on the roof, she realized. Luther had likely been setting up the chimney, making sure the fireplace was clear before starting the fire. A pang of guilt shot through her at the thought. He had come to help, but she hadn’t even acknowledged him.
Luther stood up from his crouched position by the fireplace, turning to face her once more. His eyes scanned over her, taking in the state of her clothing—the blood-stained fabric, the tightness of the dried blood against her skin. Charlie shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
But Luther didn’t say anything. He didn’t offer her any comfort, didn’t ask if she needed help. Instead, he turned away, his jaw clenched, and walked out of the room without a single word.
Charlie blinked in confusion, her heart sinking as she watched him leave. She hadn’t expected him to stay, but the abruptness of his departure left her feeling… lost.
Why did he leave?
The warmth of the fire couldn’t chase away the chill that had settled into her bones. The silence in the room returned, suffocating her as she tried to make sense of the brief interaction.
Maybe he couldn’t handle seeing her like this. Maybe he was just as lost as she was, unsure of how to navigate this impossible situation.
Or maybe, just like Raven, he was angry at her for what had happened. For putting herself in danger. For potentially infecting herself with the disease that had already torn Leah apart.
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