Page 3 of Theirs to Chase

“I hate you,” I mumble, entering the small house that serves as the entrance to the ride.

Inside, the bright light flickers on, illuminating a panel with instructions behind the counter for how the roller coaster operates. One of the influencers eagerly moves to start the timer, while everyone else scatters to find their seats.

An automatic voice echoes through the speakers.“Please put all loose belongings, such as phones and caps, in the lockboxes to your left.”

Just then, my phone rings, its shrill sound scaring me half to death. Confused, I frown at the screen.

“Guys, it’s our boss,” I say, trying to make sense of the interruption. Sofia Rosén, whom Rosén Newspaper is named after—wouldn’t call me this late unless it was urgent.

“Pick it up,” Elias advises, as he stashes his own phone in a lockbox.

I obey. “Hi, Sofia.”

“Where are you?” Her voice crackles with concern evident through the static.

“I’m at the amusement park. Nadia, Elias, and Max are here too. We’re working on the article you invited us to.”

While everyone double-checks their belts and the roller coaster slowly begins to move, a pulse of excitement thrums through the group, but all I can feel is a heavy lead weight settling in my stomach.

“Eveline, what invitation? You were supposed to close the paper today.”

“You wrote in your email that you had someone else close it so that I could attend this event.”

By now, my ears are pounding, confused about what the fuck she’s talking about. The ride starts moving slowly, and the eerie carnival music playing in the distance only amplifies the tension. Its beat perfectly matches the one of my heart.

“I never sent you an email. Eveline, what are you talking about?”

I lower the phone, my eyes meeting those of my colleagues in front of me. This coaster has a set of two and two facing each other. They look back at me, puzzled by the sudden shift in my demeanor.

Then, without warning, the cart comes to a jarring stop as complete darkness envelops the park—not even the carousels are glowing. We’re trapped in our seats, the silence only broken by the murmurs of the influencers before us.

Yet, all I can hear is a breathy, sinister chuckle roaming through the distance. The same voice from when we entered the park echoes through the small house as the speakers start.

“Come on, come on, to the park for us all. Take a step inside, dare wander and seek, where shadows play and some may never be freed.”

Chapter 2

Eveline

One year ago. Halloween night.

“Get a grip ofyourself,” I mumble to myself, shuddering in my tight black dress clinging to every curve as I approach the small cottage on the outermost edge of the town. It’s a peaceful evening, yet the buried memories try to resurface. A shiver runs down my spine as I look around, a prickling feeling making me aware that someone is there, ominously watching me.

But as I turn around, no one is—as usual.

In the heart of autumn’s tender embrace, the night of Halloween befalls with its enigmatic spell on the thirty-first of October every year. It’s a holiday bathed in an eerie excitement that sends shivers cascading down your spine. The leaves fall from the trees like a heartbroken lover, collapsing in a pool of despair as the October wind drags them away, and they will never reunite again. This is the night of horrors, the kind that makes you seek sanctuary behind locked doors, amplifying your senses and endowing you with a sense of paranoia. But for me, this day has always been a reminder of the parents I lost in a car crash.

A shaved man driving a truck.

Tires screeching.

My parents’ car swerving right over a bridge.

A loud splash and thud as it hits the water’s surface.

My scream piercing the air.

That awful night three years ago, I’d been waiting for Mom, Dad, and my brother to pick me up after a Halloween partywith some old students from Dimlokka University—we’d just graduated at the age of twenty-three. I’d been drunk, stumbling closer to where the bridge across town lies. I was right there when the accident happened. Those memories are etched into my mind like a goddamn tattoo. They never found the truck’s driver, but I remember his face clear as day—the distinct features and the registration plate burned into my memory.

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