Chapter 3 — Haunted Walls

Rain lashed against the tall windows, making the Volkov mansion groan under the storm’s weight.

The lightning flashed every few seconds, cutting across the corridors like knives of light.

Aria lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the walls breathe.

Every creak sounded too deliberate, every gust of wind too whisper-like.

Sleep had become impossible here — not with ghosts that hummed lullabies in the dark, and certainly not with him watching her every move.

Since the night in the piano room, Nikolai hadn’t spoken much.

He was colder now — not distant, but restrained, as if fighting a war inside his own mind.

He ordered food for her, posted guards near her door, and even replaced the broken window in the dining hall — yet never once explained what had really happened.

Aria’s instincts screamed that he was hiding something.

Not just about his family, but about himself.

She sat up, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. The clock read 2:11 a.m.

The storm outside was wild, but somewhere deep within the house, she heard another sound — faint, rhythmic. Thud… thud… thud.

Like footsteps.

She got up quietly. The floor was cold against her bare feet. She opened the door and stepped into the corridor, the air smelling faintly of old roses and burnt candles.

“Hello?” she whispered.

No answer. Only the slow, heavy rhythm of steps, leading her deeper into the west wing.

The walls were lined with portraits again — men in military coats, women in lace, their eyes seeming to follow her.

Lightning flickered, and for a split second, one portrait — a woman in white — looked different. Her face had turned.

Aria gasped and stepped back. When the next flash came, the painting was normal again.

She exhaled shakily. “Get it together, Aria…”

Then she saw it — a shadow moving at the end of the corridor.

It was tall. Familiar.

Nikolai.

Relief washed over her — until she realized he wasn’t walking normally. His movements were slow, mechanical, like sleepwalking.

And his shirt… was soaked in something dark.

“Nikolai?” she called softly.

He didn’t respond. He just kept moving toward the farthest door — the one that always stayed locked.

Aria followed, keeping her distance. When he reached it, he took out a small silver key and opened it without hesitation. The door groaned open, and he stepped inside.

Aria hesitated only a moment before slipping in after him.

The room was enormous — and cold.

Old candles flickered around the edges. A huge mirror stood on one wall, cracked down the middle.

And there, on a table, lay a collection of letters, yellowed with age.

Nikolai stood in front of them, staring blankly.

His lips moved silently. Then he whispered a single name.

“Irina.”

Aria’s breath caught. His mother.

The air around him shimmered faintly, and suddenly, a woman’s figure appeared behind him — translucent, glowing faintly blue.

Her hair floated as if underwater, her eyes hollow but sad.

Aria froze.

It was her. The same woman from the portrait.

Irina Volkov.

“Nikolai,” the ghost whispered. Her voice was soft, melodic, and filled with sorrow. “You promised you’d never bring her here.”

Nikolai’s eyes flickered. He spoke to the air — or rather, to her. “I had no choice.”

“She will die,” the ghost said gently. “Just like I did.”

He clenched his fists. “No. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Love is death in this house,” she said. “You know that.”

And with that, the figure faded, leaving only the echo of her words and the chill that clung to the air.

Aria stood frozen in the shadows. She wanted to move, to speak — but the look on his face stopped her.

He looked broken. Haunted. Human.

Then, as if sensing her, Nikolai turned sharply.

His eyes met hers. The coldness returned in an instant.

“What are you doing here?” he said quietly, dangerously.

“I— I heard something. I followed you.”

He walked toward her slowly, his expression unreadable.

“You followed me,” he repeated. “Again.”

“I just—”

“Do you enjoy disobeying me, Aria?”

Her heart raced. “I didn’t mean to—”

He stopped in front of her, inches away. His voice dropped lower.

“Do you have any idea what happens to people who spy on me?”

She forced herself to look up. “You already told me. You kill them.”

His jaw tightened. “Do you think I enjoy that?”

For a moment, his voice wasn’t cold anymore — it was tired. Almost desperate.

Then he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

“Your mother?” she whispered.

He looked at her sharply. “Don’t say her name.”

“But I saw her—”

“Stop.” His tone was sharp, commanding. “You saw nothing. You heard nothing.”

“Then why are you shaking?” she asked softly.

That silenced him.

He turned away, his reflection splitting across the cracked mirror. “Because every time I dream of her,” he said quietly, “someone dies.”

The words hung in the air like poison.

The next day, the mansion felt different.

Quieter. Darker.

Even the staff avoided eye contact.

Aria tried to focus on survival — she needed to find her phone, get a signal, escape.

But every door she tested was locked. Every corridor seemed to twist back toward the center of the house.

At lunch, Nikolai appeared again. He looked calmer, dressed perfectly as always. The cut on his cheek had healed already — almost unnaturally fast.

“You’re pale,” he said, studying her. “Didn’t sleep?”

“How could I? Your house is crawling with ghosts.”

He smirked faintly. “You’ll get used to them.”

“I’m not planning to stay that long.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching her. “You still think you can leave?”

“I will leave,” she said, glaring.

His voice softened. “Even if it kills you?”

Her chest tightened. “You’re threatening me again?”

“No.” His eyes met hers — cold steel and something else beneath it. “I’m warning you.”

She looked away, her appetite gone. “You act like you own everyone you meet.”

He smiled faintly. “Only the ones who belong to me.”

She glared at him. “I’ll never belong to you.”

He didn’t reply. He just studied her — long enough that it made her heart stutter — then stood and left the room.

Later that evening, she went exploring again. She couldn’t help herself.

The more he told her to stay put, the more her curiosity burned.

She wandered back toward the east wing, the part of the mansion Nikolai never mentioned.

Dust coated the floors. The air was stale, heavy.

She found an old door partially open and stepped inside.

The room was lined with mirrors.

Some were cracked, others fogged. In the center stood an antique vanity — with a silver comb resting on it.

Aria reached out and picked it up. It was cold.

As soon as her fingers touched it, the mirror in front of her shifted.

Her reflection… smiled.

But she hadn’t.

The reflection tilted its head. Blood dripped slowly from its mouth.

Aria dropped the comb, stumbling back. “No—”

The door slammed shut behind her. The mirrors began to hum — a low, vibrating sound that made her head spin.

Whispers filled the air.

He will love you.

He will kill you.

Run before he breaks.

Aria covered her ears. “Stop it!”

Suddenly, arms wrapped around her from behind.

She screamed, fighting — until she heard his voice.

“Aria! It’s me!”

She froze.

Nikolai held her tightly, his body warm against hers. “What did you do?” he demanded. “Why did you come here?”

“I— the mirrors—”

“Don’t touch anything in this wing,” he snapped. “Ever.”

He pulled her away from the vanity, slamming the door shut behind them.

When they reached the main hall, he turned on her, furious.

“Are you trying to die?”

“You keep saying that like I’m the problem here!” she shouted back. “Maybe if you told me what’s actually happening—”

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I am the problem, Aria.”

She stilled. “What?”

“I told you,” he whispered. “Every woman who gets close to me suffers. You think this curse is just a story? I watched my mother lose her mind. My brother’s fiancée drowned in the lake without ever touching the water. And now you—”

He broke off, voice shaking slightly.

Aria’s anger softened just a little. “You think it’ll happen to me?”

“I know it will,” he said. “And yet I can’t make myself let you go.”

She searched his face, seeing the torment there. For the first time, she realized his possessiveness wasn’t just control — it was fear.

Fear of losing her the same way he’d lost everyone else.

He took a slow breath. “You’ll stay in my room tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s the only room the ghosts don’t touch,” he said simply. “You’ll be safer there.”

She hesitated, then nodded slightly. “Fine. But only for tonight.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll see.”

Nikolai’s bedroom was massive but surprisingly bare — black walls, minimal furniture, and a single painting of a wolf above the bed.

It smelled faintly of smoke and cedar, just like him.

He gave her one side of the bed. “You sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

He glanced at her. “You’ll need more than that if the house decides you’re next.”

She sighed and lay down, turning her back to him.

The silence stretched on.

Then she whispered, “Why me?”

He looked over. “What do you mean?”

“Why keep me here? You could’ve let me go. You should’ve.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly:

“Because when I saw you that night in my study, I thought you were a ghost too.”

She turned toward him slowly. “What?”

He gave a faint smile, eyes dark. “You looked like something the house had created. Beautiful, stubborn, dangerous. I didn’t know whether to kill you or protect you.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “And now?”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Now I’m afraid I’ll do both.”

The wind howled outside. Thunder cracked.

For a moment, everything felt still — like the house itself was listening.

Then, suddenly, the lights flickered.

Aria sat up. “Nikolai—”

The mirror across the room shimmered.

From its surface, a hand pressed outward — pale, wet, dripping red. Then another.

A woman’s face appeared — Irina’s — her mouth open in a silent scream.

Aria froze.

Nikolai stood instantly, pulling her behind him. The air turned icy. The ghost’s eyes bled black.

“Leave her,” Irina’s voice echoed. “You can’t stop what’s coming.”