The Intruder
ARIANA’S POV
I didn’t realize I was screaming until the door slammed open.
Three guards rushed in, their guns drawn, eyes sweeping the room.
“There was someone—” I choked out, pointing toward the space where the figure had stood.
But it was empty now. Again.
Nothing but shadows. No cloaked stranger. No glint of metal. Just the cold, humming echo of dread vibrating in my bones.
“He was right there,” I gasped, backing against the wall. “He was standing right there! Check the room. Check everything!”
One of the guards didn’t wait for further instruction—he darted into the walk-in closet while another checked under the bed and behind the curtains. The third stayed close to me, eyes sharp, weapon still raised as if the intruder might materialize again from the very air.
Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
“Princess?” came a voice—my grandfather’s. Rough, commanding.
He reached my door just as my mother appeared behind him in her nightgown, hair tousled, eyes wide with fear.
“What happened?” she asked, rushing into the room. “Ariana, what is it?”
“There was someone in here,” I whispered, trying to find my breath. “A man. Tall. He was standing in the middle of my room and—”
I stopped myself. I couldn’t say the rest. Couldn’t mention the ring. My father’s ring. The one that should have been buried with him.
Mentioning it now would only cause panic. Confusion. Questions I didn’t have answers to.
My mother’s eyes searched mine, and I saw the flicker of fear tightening her expression. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, even though my knees still felt like they could collapse. “He didn’t touch me. He just… stood there. Watching.”
“Then disappeared?” Grandpa asked. His voice was low and cold, not at all confused—angry. “And the door?”
“It was ajar when I woke up. I know I locked it,” I said. “He was here. I’m not imagining things.”
“Of course not,” my mother murmured, crossing to me. She reached out and took my shaking hands in hers, guiding me gently toward the bed. “Sit, honey. Breathe.”
Another guard entered the room. “The perimeter’s clear,” he said. “No sign of forced entry. Security footage doesn’t show anything unusual yet, but we’re pulling thermal scans from the garden and resetting the motion sensors now.”
“Wake every man on the payroll,” Grandpa snapped. “Sweep the entire estate. Every hall. Every passage. Every hidden corridor. Find him. If someone stepped foot in my house tonight, I want to know how they got in—and why.”
“Yes, sir!” the guards echoed before darting off like shadows dissolving into the night.
I sat on the edge of the bed, still trying to stop my hands from trembling.
My mother wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and handed me a glass of water. I didn’t realize how dry my throat was until I took a sip and it burned its way down.
She sat beside me, rubbing slow circles into my back.
Grandpa remained standing at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind his back, the fury simmering beneath his skin barely contained. “Whoever it was, they’ll regret stepping foot in this house,” he said tightly. Then his tone softened a little. “You’re safe now, Ariana. I won’t let anyone touch you.”
“I know,” I said quietly, placing the glass down. “Thank you.”
But I didn’t feel safe.
Not really.
Because whoever that man was, he hadn’t gotten in by accident. There had been no alarms. No motion triggers. No windows broken.
He didn’t enter the mansion.
He’d been in it.
Already.
I hugged the blanket closer and looked between them. “There’s no way someone could’ve gotten in without tripping something, right?”
Grandpa’s jaw tightened. “Correct.”
“Then maybe he didn’t come in,” I whispered. “Maybe he was already here.”
That silenced the room.
A tense pause settled, thick and uncomfortable.
My mother glanced at me, but her eyes flicked away quickly, as if she didn’t want me to see the fear behind them. “Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight?” she said softly. “Just to be sure.”
I hesitated.
Not because I didn’t want to. But because of the truth I wasn’t saying aloud.
I didn’t feel like he was gone. Whoever he was… I had the sinking feeling he hadn’t left. That he was still here. Somewhere. Hiding in the dark places we weren’t looking.
But I nodded. “Okay.”
My mother smiled tightly and stood, holding out her hand.
I followed her down the hall, barefoot, wrapped in the blanket like armor, every step echoing too loudly in my ears. The mansion felt suddenly too big, too full of shadows. Every corner felt like it could hold a secret. A pair of eyes.
Her room was warm, filled with soft light from a single bedside lamp. She pulled back the covers and climbed in beside me. I crawled in too, curling beside her like I used to when I was little and the nightmares wouldn’t let me sleep.
She wrapped her arms around me, and I rested my head against her shoulder.
“It’s okay now,” she whispered, stroking her fingers gently through my hair. “You’re safe.”
But her voice trembled just a little.
And she kept glancing at the door.
Like she didn’t fully believe it either.
I didn’t know how long we lay there. Her fingers kept brushing through my hair, over and over, the rhythmic motion pulling at the edges of my tension. Slowly, finally, I began to relax, my breathing evening out as the heaviness of the night pressed down on me like a weighted blanket.
My eyelids fluttered shut.
And sleep came.
Heavy.
Dark.
But not peaceful.
***
I dreamt of fire.
Of cold metal and warm blood.
Of whispers in a language I didn’t recognize. Of a man’s voice calling my name in the dark. Over and over and over.
When I woke, the room was still and my mother was asleep beside me, one arm draped over my waist.
I didn’t move.
I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting the silence wrap around me like smoke.
But I couldn’t shake the dream.
Or the memory of that ring.
I needed answers.
And I knew I wouldn’t find them by hiding under blankets.
Something was coming. I could feel it. Like a pressure building under the surface of everything. And whoever that man was… he wasn’t done with me yet.
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