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“Actually, I’m here about the Chen cottage.”

Her eyes lit up like I’d just handed her premium gossip material. “The Chen place? Are you with the real estate office? We don’t get many folks asking about that property.”

“Actually, I’m Sarah Chen’s son.”

The recognition flickered across her face like an old movie reel spinning to life. “Little Kai? My word! I remember when you and your mama lived here—must be, what, ten years ago now? She kept to herself mostly, but I’d see you two at the market. Then one day, you both just… disappeared.” She paused her scanning, eyes searching my face. “How is your mama? We always wondered…”

My throat tightened. “She passed away. Four years ago.”

“Oh, bless her heart.” Karen’s voice softened with what seemed like genuine sympathy. “She was such a quiet thing, always looking over her shoulder like she was expecting… well, never mind that. But you’re back now! For the property?”

My scar tingled as she continued scanning items, but Karen was just warming up.

“You know, you really didn’t need to buy all these cleaning supplies. The Stone brothers have kept that place in perfect condition.” She held up my emergency flashlight multipack with raised eyebrows. “Though Marcus—he’s the responsible one—always says it’s good to be prepared. Those woods can get mighty dark.”

The scar wasn’t just tingling now; it was doing the cha-cha. “The… Stone brothers?”

“Oh yes, such good boys. All three of them.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Built like mountains, those ones. Marcus runs all those successful businesses, and Derek—he’s the protective one, ex-military you know—he actually installed new security lights all around your property. And Caleb, bless his heart, he’s been maintaining the garden. Such thoughtful boys.”

Great. So not only does this cottage come with woods straight out of a horror movie, but it also comes with three giant caretakers who’ve been playing handyman. Probably shirtless. Stop it, Kai.

“That’s… fascinating,” I managed, swiping my card with trembling fingers. The receipt couldn’t print fast enough. “Really must be going though. Long drive ahead.”

“Oh, but honey…” Karen leaned even closer, like we were sharing state secrets over a checkout counter. “The cottage is only an hour away! Through the woods, past their compound—you can’t miss it. Unless you get lost in the dark. Those woods can be tricky after sunset.”

I fled Karen’s Twenty Questions session like my cart was on fire, the tingling in my scar growing more noticeable as I hit the parking lot. Halfway through loading groceries, the sensation intensified to a warm buzz, making me pause and shift uncomfortably. Not painful exactly, but impossible to ignore.

My neck prickled with an odd sensitivity, the hair standing up as if someone was watching. I paused, groceries forgotten as I scanned the parking lot. Nothing seemed out of place—just the usual small-town scene of pickup trucks and minivans.

Get it together, Kai. You’re getting paranoid.

My hands shook as I shoved the last bag into the trunk, trying to ignore how my scar hummed with that strange warmth. Karen’s words about mountain-sized brothers and their compound echoed in my head like a horror movie trailer, made worse by the persistent feeling of unseen eyes on me.

A compound. They have a compound.Nobody normal has a compound. That’s serial killer territory, straight out of those true crime podcasts I shouldn’t have binged before this trip. The tingling in my scar continued its steady pulse, as if trying to tell me something I couldn’t quite understand.

“Just drive fast,” I muttered, gunning the engine. “Beat the sunset, avoid the murder compound, find the cottage. Simple.”

The sun mocked me from its steady descent toward the tree line as I sped down the highway. My knuckles went white on the steering wheel, and I definitely wasn’t thinking about three suspiciously helpful brothers who apparently had nothing better to do than maintain my mother’s abandoned property.

Thirty minutes into my escape plan, my car made a sound like a dying whale.

“No, no, baby, please.” I patted the dashboard like I was soothing a temperamental pet. “You’ve been so good. Just a little farther. Do it for daddy?”

The engine responded with a death rattle and an impressive cloud of smoke from under the hood.

“Shit!” I pulled over, my heart trying to escape through my throat. The hood release took three tries because my hands were shaking so bad.

I stared at the engine like it might speak to me. “Right. Because four years of business school totally prepared me for this moment.” The smoke curling up from… whatever that thing was… didn’t inspire confidence.

My phone displayed the three most terrifying words in the English language: No Service Available.

“Perfect. This is fine. Everything’s fine.” The woods loomed on either side of the road, darker by the minute. At least I had enough snacks to last through an apocalypse. “Death by starvation: unlikely. Death by whatever’s making those rustling sounds in the trees: increasingly probable.”

An hour crawled by. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in colors that would be beautiful if they weren’t a countdown to my doom. I’d gone through five stages of panic, invented three new ones, and was currently alternating between praying and cursing at my phone’s useless No Service message.

Then—headlights. A massive black truck appeared around the bend, all gleaming chrome and money, looking about as out of place on this backwoods road as I did.

“Hey! HEY!” I waved my arms like a deranged air traffic controller, probably looking completely unhinged. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was way past desperate.

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