Page 4 of Mourning Wings

Theother rooms appear to be playrooms filled with an array of sex toys and fixtures, displayed almost like macabre exhibits in a twisted museum.Swingshang from the ceiling, restraints bolted to the walls, shelves lined with various tools, their purposesIcan only guess at.

Suddenly, one of the screens catches my eye.It’sfocused on the same masked menI’vebeen seeing all night.Theystand in a circle, their heads bowed slightly, as if they’re in silent communication.Mystomach twists with unease.

Ican’t believe whatI’mseeing.Theinvasion of privacy, the hidden surveillance—it’s all so wrong.Mymind races with questions and a rising sense of panic.Ineed to get out of here, to findIsabeland tell her whatI’vefound.

AsImove to walk away, my gaze lands on another monitor, and my breath catches in my throat.There, in the low light of a room,Isee my best friend.She’swith the guy she went upstairswith, and they’re on a bed, but it doesn’t look like she’s having fun anymore.Shelooks scared, her eyes wide and pleading.

“OhmyGod!”Igasp.Panicsurges through me, andIknowIneed to get toIsabel, to help her.Ican’t leave her up there, not like this.

AsIturn to leave the basement, something stops me in my tracks.

Oneof the monitors now shows an image of me standing in this very room.Mybreath falters asIsee myself on the screen.

Adoor slams shut behind me, andIwhirl around, a lump rising in my throat.

Go,Valeria.Run.

Icharge forward, bumping into someone.Startled,Ilook up to see a tall figure standing in my path.Iscream, the sound piercing the stillness.

Beforemy voice can carry far, a hand clamps over my mouth, stifling my cries.Mybody is turned, and panic surges through me asIstruggle, my muffled screams vibrating against the stranger’s palm.Ican feel their warmth on my back, hear their harsh whisper, butIcan’t make out the words.Mymind races, fear gripping me asIdesperately try to pull away, but their hold is too strong.

Then, just as suddenly as they grabbed me, the stranger releases me.

Istumble forward, nearly losing my balance asIface them.

Theperson is wearing a neck scarf pulled up over their mouth and nose, adorned with the image of a skull.Itake in the rest of their appearance—black eyes framed by thick lashes, curly black hair, an eyebrow piercing, and fingers full of rings.

It’sawoman.Iglance closer and notice a delicate butterfly necklace resting against the hollow of her throat.Thesight of it sends a jolt through me—a rush of recognition—but the memory remains just out of reach, teasing me with its familiarity.

Ifeel a wave of unease wash over me, pinned by her intense stare.It’sas if she can see right through me, her gaze stripping away all pretenses.Ifeel exposed, skinned, and it’s deeply uncomfortable.Yet, at the same time, there’s something almost electric about it, like being lit from the inside.

Ifeel both emboldened and unnerved by her silence.

Herpresence alone is commanding, demanding attention and respect.Mythroat feels tight, andIstruggle to find my voice.TryasImight, no words come out.Theair between us is thick, andIcan’t shake the feeling that she knows exactly whatI’vejust seen.

Hergaze slowly shifts to the monitors behind me, eyes narrowing as they take in the disturbing images.Ifollow her stare, my own anxiety rising as the reality of the situation sinks in.

“Youshouldn’t have come here.”

Abreath catches in my throat.

Hervoice cuts through the tension with an unexpected calm.It’ssoft, velvety, wrapping around me like a warm blanket, andI’mstartled by the immediate effect it has on me.Thesheer contrast between her earlier aggression and this gentle, almost melodic, cadence makes my heart skip a beat.

Imanage to find my voice, though it comes out as little more than a whisper. “I…Ineed to help my friend,”Istammer.

Hereyes flick back to mine, and she gives the slightest nod.It’sa gesture that feels both like permission and a command, urging me to go.

Witha final, shaky breath,Istep around her and make my way back up the stairs, the urgency in my steps renewed.Theencounter with the mysterious woman lingers in my mind, her image seared into my thoughts.

AsIpush through the crowd, searching desperately for my friend,Ican’t help but wonder who she is and what she knows.

2

VALERIA

Iburst through the basement door and re-enter the crowded, noisy party.Thelaughter and music hit me like a wall as my eyes scan for the stairs that lead to the second floor.

“Excuseme, excuse me,”Imutter asIweave between people.

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