Gemotions

The realtor had gushed about the "charming quirks" of the old Victorian, but Sarah suspected there was more than she was told. She'd always felt a prickle of annoyance at her ex, Mark, and the smug way he'd acquired their dream home. He'd never truly apologized for his behavior, and now, here she was, in a house that *should* have been hers. Pushing aside a loose panel in the library, she found a narrow, dusty staircase leading downwards.

Her heart thumped with a strange mix of excitement and something sharper, something that tasted like cold steel. Descending into the gloom, she pulled out her phone and flicked on the flashlight. The air grew heavy, smelling of mildew and something else… something faintly metallic.

The hidden room revealed a single, iron-bound trunk. It stood in the center, glinting dimly in the flashlight’s beam. A smile, slow and predatory, stretched across Sarah's face. This was better than she'd hoped.