Chapter 1 The House In The Wood

The party was already in full swing when we got there.

Music pulsed through Jeffery Parker's beach house, bass notes I could feel in my chest. Sweaty bodies moved in the living room, silhouettes against floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the Pacific like a painting. The ocean stretched black and infinite beyond the glass, waves crashing against the cliff somewhere far below.

"See? I told you it would be amazing." Diane grabbed my hand, pulling me through the crowd. Her blonde hair caught the light from the expensive fixtures overhead. Everything in this house caught the light. Marble counters, polished wood, chrome accents. Everything in the house scream money.

I clutched my plastic cup tighter and followed. The champagne fizzed against my tongue, bubbles popping like tiny celebrations. Finals were over. Marine biology degree almost mine. Just one summer between me and real life.

"You having fun?" Diane turned to me, her smile bright and genuine.

"Yeah." I meant it. For once, I wasn't thinking about my scholarship requirements or my research paper or whether Mom was working a double shift at the diner. "Thanks for making me come."

"Someone has to drag you out of the lab occasionally." She clinked her cup against mine. "Four years, Gwen. Four years you've been either studying or swimming. Tonight, you get to be a normal college senior."

She squeezed my arm. "Jeffery is about to do shots. You in?"

"I should probably pace myself."

"Come on. Live a little." Diane's pout was practiced, effective. "It's his birthday. And you're always so serious."

"One shot," I agreed.

Her face lit up. "Yes! You won't regret it."

We pushed through to the kitchen where Jeffery held court. He was handsome in that effortless rich-boy way. Strong jaw, easy confidence, clothes that fit perfectly because they were tailored.

"Ladies! Ready to send finals straight to hell?" Jeffery grinned and lined up shot glasses on the marble counter. Seven of them in a perfect row.

"What are we drinking?" Diane asked.

"Tequila. The good stuff, not that garbage from last week's party."

We threw back the shots. The tequila burned clean and smooth. This was what money tasted like.

Around us, people started drifting. To the dance floor, out to the deck, upstairs. The crowd thinning as midnight crept closer.

I checked my phone. 11:47. I'd promised Mom I'd be home by one. That left time to dance, maybe sober up a little with some water.

But the party was getting louder. More chaotic. Bodies pressed too close. The air thick with sweat and spilled alcohol. Someone knocked into me, sloshing champagne on my shirt.

I needed air. Space. Quiet.

Tired of the party and all the sweaty bodies wasted with booze around me, I decided to explore Jeffery's father's beach house on my own.

I slipped out the back door onto a wooden deck. The ocean wind hit my face, sharp and bracing. Better. The music faded to a dull throb behind me.

The property stretched beyond the deck. Manicured lawn gave way to wild coastal brush. In the distance, I could see the dark line where land met cliff, then nothing but ocean.

I walked down the deck stairs and across the lawn. Away from the party noise. Away from the crowd.

The grass ended at a trail leading into the brush. A narrow path, barely visible in the moonlight. Probably a maintenance path or something left over from when the property was built.

Curious, I followed it.

The brush closed in around me. Native coastal plants, dense and dark. The path wound through them, heading toward the back of the property. The party sounds faded completely. Now it was just wind and the distant crash of waves.

I should probably turn back. This was stupid. Walking alone in the dark at a party where I barely knew anyone.

But something pulled me forward. Curiosity maybe. Or the need to see what was hidden back here.

The path opened into a clearing.

I stopped.

In the middle of the clearing sat a building. Small, maybe the size of a large shed or guest house. Old stone construction, completely different from the modern beach house. Dark. No lights. Ivy crawled up the sides.

What was this place?

I moved closer, feet crunching on gravel. The building had no windows I could see. Just stone walls and a single wooden door on the side facing me.

As I walked along the side of the building, I heard something.

Voices.

Male voices, coming from inside. Low. Rhythmic. Almost like chanting.

I froze.

Party guests? Maybe some of the guys came back here to smoke or drink away from the main crowd.

But the voices didn't sound casual. They sounded deliberate. Ceremonial.

I should leave. Walk back to the party. Pretend I never came out here.

But my feet moved forward. Toward the door. Toward the voices that were growing louder.

The door was old wood, weathered by salt air. No lock that I could see. Just a simple latch.

My hand reached for it.

The voices swelled. Definitely chanting. Multiple men, speaking in unison.

I lifted the latch.

The door swung inward on silent hinges.

Darkness. A short hallway leading deeper into the building. The chanting echoed from the end of it, louder now. Distinct.

I stepped inside.

The hallway smelled wrong. Copper and smoke and something organic and rotting. My stomach turned but I kept moving. Toward the voices. Toward the light spilling from an open doorway at the end.

The chanting was clear now. Words I didn't recognize. Latin maybe. Ancient-sounding.

I reached the doorway.

Looked inside.

My breath hitched.

The room was large, much bigger than the building looked from outside. Stone walls lined with candles. Hundreds of them, flickering and casting dancing shadows.

In the center sat a platform. An altar.

Around it stood six men. Naked. Eyes closed. Chanting in unison.

I recognized them immediately.

Jeffery. Ryan. Chad. Ethan. Kyle. Felix. The same guys who'd been doing shots in the kitchen an hour ago. Diane's best friends. The prep school crew who'd been inseparable since freshman year.

But it was the seventh figure that made my blood go cold.

An older man stood at the head of the altar. Jeffery's father. I'd seen him in photos, met him once at a campus event. Successful businessman. Philanthropist. Board member at the university.

He wore robes. Dark fabric embroidered with symbols I didn't recognize.

And in his hand, he held a knife.

On the altar, tied to a post and spread-eagled, was a young woman.

She was alive. I could see her chest rising and falling. Her eyes were wide with terror, darting around the room. Tape covered her mouth, muffling her screams.

I didn't recognize her. College-aged maybe. Dark hair. Pale skin that looked ghostly in the candlelight.

The chanting reached a crescendo.

Jeffery's father raised the knife higher. Candlelight gleamed off the blade.

No.

This isn't real. This can't be real.

But it was.

The knife plunged down.

Into her chest.

Twisted.

The woman's body jerked against the restraints. Her muffled screams turned to wet, choking sounds.

And the six men. The six men I'd gone to college with. The six men who played intramural sports and attended charity galas and dated nice girls.

They began to pleasure themselves.

Eyes still closed. Still chanting. While the woman's life bled out onto the stone altar.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't process what I was seeing.

This isn't happening. This isn't real.

But the blood was real. Spreading dark and wet across the altar.

The woman's struggles were weakening. Slowing.

Dying.

Run. The thought broke through my paralysis. Run now.

I took a step back.

My foot hit something. A loose stone maybe.

The sound echoed in the ceremonial chamber.

The chanting stopped.

Six pairs of eyes opened.

And looked directly at me.

Time slowed.

I saw recognition dawn on their faces. Saw the shift from religious ecstasy to cold calculation.

Then I ran.

Back down the hallway. Toward the door. Toward escape.

But I wasn't fast enough.

Something hit me from behind. Hard. The back of my skull exploded with pain.

I fell to the ground.

The world tilted sideways. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was Jeffery standing over me, naked and covered in blood, holding a rock.

And he was smiling.