POV: Samantha
My eyes flutter open slowly, and for a moment, I'm disoriented. I reach toward the nightstand, expecting to feel the familiar shape of my phone. Nothing. My fingers skim over smooth wood, but no buzzing rectangle meets them.
I frown, sitting up with a groggy groan as the fog of sleep clears. Right. I'm not at home. I'm at the B&B.
And like an idiot, I probably left my phone in the car last night. I make a mental note to retrieve it later—assuming I don't get eaten by a bear or haunted by ancient spirits before then.
I glance around, and my mood instantly lightens.
The room is stunning.
Bathed in soft, golden morning light, it feels like something out of a lifestyle magazine. Airy and warm, with large windows filtering sunlight through sheer curtains, the space manages to be both elegant and cozy. The bed I'm sitting in is king-sized and wrapped in cloud-like linens. There's a tall bookshelf nestled in the corner, its shelves filled with well-worn hardcovers, and a couple of inviting sofas are arranged in a reading nook near the fireplace.
There's also a door to what I assume is the bathroom. And honestly, a hot shower or bath sounds like the kind of self-care I desperately need right now.
But then my memories from last night crash down on me like a wave.
Ugh. Ian.
Hopefully, that jerk is still passed out in whatever room he crawled into last night—or better yet, already gone. I don't think I can handle running into him again. He seemed decent when we met. Kind, attentive, respectful. We'd been on three dates before this wedding. I thought he might actually be someone worth bringing along. But I was wrong. So, so wrong.
Turns out, Ian couldn't hold his liquor and had the self-control of a college frat boy. He flirted with every woman he passed at the reception like it was a contest. Embarrassing me. Making me question my own judgment. Again.
I shake my head and slide out of bed, yawning and stretching as I shuffle across the soft rug to the bathroom. The door creaks open, and to my relief, the bathroom is just as welcoming as the bedroom. Cream-colored tiles, a clawfoot tub, a separate glass shower, and soft towels neatly folded by the sink.
Well… don't mind if I do.
I turn on the taps, watching the hot water fill the tub. The scent of lavender rises with the steam, instantly calming my nerves. I slide into the warmth slowly, sighing in utter bliss as the water envelops me. My muscles relax, the stress of the previous day melting away.
This place is magic.
Not that I've seen much of it beyond a dramatic gate, an eerie forest, and a near-heart attack upon arrival. But still, it feels... safe. Like it's wrapped around me protectively.
I think about the drive here and smile at how ridiculous I must've looked, panicking like some damsel in a horror flick. Every creak, every rustle had me imagining my own tragic demise. But it had been a long, emotionally draining day. That's all. Anyone would've freaked out under the circumstances.
Still, this place is breathtaking. I can't wait to explore more of it. Take a walk, maybe sit under a tree and read a book, pretend the world doesn't exist for a few hours.
My job doesn't usually allow for this kind of luxury. As an editor for one of the largest book publishing companies in the world, I work long hours under high stress. I've always told myself I prefer it that way—structure, purpose, routine.
But now, with the warm water lapping at my shoulders and the scent of fresh pine lingering in the air from the open window, I realize how much I've been neglecting myself.
Maybe it's not just about Ian. Or the wedding. Or the long drive.
Maybe it's everything.
I don't have close friends besides Alison. And my family—well, that's a complicated subject. My parents died when I was little. I barely remember them. I grew up in foster care. Bounced around a few homes. Never adopted.
I guess I've just always been… a little unlucky.
Books became my escape. They were my constant. My home. I could lose myself in fictional lives, adventures, romances, happy endings that felt just out of reach in real life.
Last night at the wedding, watching Alison—radiant, in love, so sure of her future—I was hit with a sudden, bone-deep loneliness I hadn't allowed myself to feel in years.
I close my eyes and lean back in the tub, letting the warmth soothe the ache in my chest.
This isn't the time to spiral. Not today.
I grab the shampoo and start washing my hair, chasing the lingering sadness away with the scent of honey and vanilla. My fingers massage my scalp, and I let out a contented sigh. By the time I rinse off and step out, I'm feeling significantly better.
I towel off, pull on a pair of washed-out jeans and a loose white tank top, and tie my damp hair into a messy ponytail. After a quick glance in the mirror—eh, good enough—I open my suitcase and tuck the essentials into my bag.
I step into the hallway, pausing to take it in.
My room is near the end of a long, elegant corridor. The hardwood floors gleam under soft, warm lighting. There's only one door to my right—unmarked and oddly out of place. I can't explain why, but I feel... drawn to it. Something about it tugs at me. Like it's daring me to look inside.
But I shake the thought off with a nervous laugh.
Curiosity killed the cat—and I've had enough close calls lately.
As I move toward the staircase, I count five other doors. That means, including mine, there are six rooms on this floor. Three on each side. The hallway ends at that strange door.
I descend the stairs, past what looks like another guest floor. The staircase opens up into a massive foyer, and now, with the sunlight streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows, it's even more breathtaking than it was last night.
"Good morning, miss."
I jump slightly and turn toward the voice.
The same old man from last night is standing near the staircase, smiling pleasantly. His posture is a little straighter in the daylight, his eyes twinkling with quiet amusement.
"Hi!" I greet with a relieved smile. "Could you maybe point me toward the dining room? I'm absolutely starving."
He nods politely and gestures toward a wooden double door to my right.
"Of course. Right this way."
I thank him and head toward the door, pushing it open to reveal a long dining room with a high ceiling, rustic chandeliers, and a massive wooden table running down the center. Only two places are set, which feels oddly intimate considering the scale of the room.
The old man walks over and pulls out a chair for me, motioning for me to sit. I hesitate for just a moment, but then smile and accept the offer.
A young girl appears from a side door, carrying a tray. She looks no older than twenty, dressed plainly, her eyes cast downward the entire time. She hands the old man the tray without a word, and he begins setting the table.
Orange juice. Water with fresh cucumber slices. Some fresh fruit. I would've killed for a coffee, but I'll take what I can get.
"What would you like for breakfast, miss?" the man asks as he dismisses the girl with a gentle nod.
I glance after her, watching her quietly disappear through the same set of doors. She didn't say a single word.
"Uh... just toast and scrambled eggs would be great," I say, trying not to sound awkward.
He nods, then begins to turn away when something clicks in my mind.
"Wait—where are the other guests?"
He pauses, then turns back to me with a mild expression.
"There are no other guests, miss."
I blink. "Sorry... what?"
"You're the only one staying here," he says with a small bow before disappearing through the same door the girl went through.
I sit in stunned silence.
No other guests?
That can't be right. Alison definitely told me she and Todd were staying here. She made a whole fuss about how gorgeous the rooms were and how this was the perfect place for the wedding guests to stay after the reception.
Did they leave early?
No. That's not possible.
And why would everyone else leave, too?
Unless...
Unless I'm not where I think I am.
The realization hits me hard, and my mouth goes dry. I grab the cucumber water and gulp it down too fast, choking a little. My hands tremble slightly as I set the glass back down.
Where am I?
I'm still processing when I suddenly become aware of something else. A presence.
I'm not alone anymore.
My gaze lifts slowly to the doorway.
A man stands there. No—a presence stands there.
He's tall. Broad-shouldered. Arms crossed over a thick chest. Muscles flex beneath a dark shirt. His jaw is sharp, expression unreadable, but it's his eyes that strike me first—piercing, unreadable, and somehow... feral.
He stares at me like I'm something too eat.
Something dangerous.
Or maybe he's the danger.
I swallow hard, heart hammering.
Now I'm in trouble.