The dining room itself was tidy. Too tidy, perhaps. A heavy wooden table polished to a shine, matching chairs lined up like soldiers, like they were rarely, if ever, used. Lace curtains yellowed with age, keeping the darkness outside at bay. Even the plates looked old and expensive. The air was sharp with the chemical scent of cleaning solution, floating over the now familiar smell of damp earth and wood.

Hailey was already seated, swinging her legs under the chair, her toy bear Mr. Winkle tucked beside her plate like it was waiting to be served too. She looked brighter than she had all day, cheeks a little pink from the warmth, eyes wide as she watched Elise set dishes on the table with eager, almost frantic care.

Jack sat at the head, broad and immovable, eating like every bite was a personal insult. Dad sat next to him, posture straight, shoulders tense beneath his faded flannel. Elise hovered between them like the hostess of a fancy cocktail party, smiling too much, moving too smoothly.

As I took my seat, I couldn't help noticing a brief, wordless exchange between Dad and Elise.

Their eyes met.

Not casually, not like people who happened to look at the same time. Their gazes locked a second too long for it to be coincidence, followed by Dad's brief nod and the smallest curve at the corner of Elise's mouth. She nodded back, then broke eye contact and turned to me.

Her warm smile didn't last. It stretched into something that showed too many teeth, a smile that belonged to someone greeting a guest she'd already decided she owned.

"So, Kelsey dear," she said, voice syrupy and bright, "how was your first day at the new school?"

Before I could answer, metal scraped against porcelain with a sound sharp enough to make my teeth ache.

Jack.

He was dragging a piece of carrot across his plate like it had offended him personally. I glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the carrot like it was an enemy. The moment I looked up, I felt his attention flick toward me, not fully, just enough to acknowledge that I existed.

"Fine, I guess," I muttered, focusing on my plate.

"Oh, that's so wonderful to hear," Elise exclaimed, her tone rising too high, too practiced. "See, I told you there was nothing to worry about." She turned her bright, scrutinizing eyes toward her husband. "Kelsey is a Blackwell. Everyone knows what that means around here."

Her gaze flickered briefly to mine. It was quick, but it landed like a hand on the back of my neck.

Jack's fork stopped. He looked at Elise, held her stare as if he was about to say something, then decided against it and resumed his war with dinner.

My stomach tightened. "What do you mean by that?" I asked.

The whole table seemed to still.

Not Hailey, she was busy stabbing a potato with fierce concentration, but everyone else froze for half a second, as if my question had hit an invisible wire.

I didn't miss the warning look my father shot at Elise. Just one glance, sharp and controlled.

For a moment Elise hesitated, and in that hesitation her smile looked less like cheer and more like calculation. Then she snapped right back into her performance.

"Well," she said lightly, "only that we are a very old and respected family in this town. In fact, our family has been one of the two most prominent families in Cold Creek ever since the town was founded, a hundred and fifty years ago."

That surprised me.

"Really?" I turned toward Dad. "You never mentioned anything like that."

Dad tried to shrug it off. "Cold Creek is a small town. It doesn't mean anything outside of it."

"But it certainly does in here," Elise said, almost delighted.

"And the other family?" I asked, because Elise had said two, and my brain wouldn't let it go.

"Excuse me, dear?"

"You said there were two prominent families," I pressed. "What's the other one?"

"Oh." Elise blinked like she'd forgotten she'd said it, which felt like a lie in itself. "Well, the Greystones, of course."

"The Greystones?" The name sounded heavy, like it belonged to a place, not just people.

"Jason and his family," Jack grunted, chewing a piece of potato like it was his mortal enemy.

Jason.

Ethan and Nell.

Jack pointed his fork at Dad like it was a weapon. "Your father here was supposed to take Jason's position. My position, before I decided to retire." His voice lowered, bitterness crawling in. "But he had other plans."

"Dad," my father said, voice low, too low. His hands gripped the edge of the table. His spine went rigid, jaw set tight. "Don't."

Jack waved a hand as if swatting a fly and turned back to his plate, but the damage was done. The words hung there, sharp and unfinished.

I watched Dad swallow hard, throat bobbing. His eyes narrowed into slits, not at Jack, not fully, more like at the room itself.

Hailey saved us without meaning to.

"Daddy," she chirped suddenly, completely oblivious, "when are you going to put up a swing? You promised."

The tension snapped, not vanishing, but redirecting. Dad turned to her, and his face softened in a way that almost hurt to witness, like watching a curtain open and let daylight in for a second, knowing it would drop again.

"I'll start on it first thing tomorrow morning," he said, forcing a smile. "All right, pup?"

Hailey nodded fiercely, satisfied, then returned to her potatoes.

I stared at my plate, appetite fading despite how hungry I was. I pushed my chair back slightly, the sound loud in the quiet. "May I be excused?"

Hailey looked up, startled. "Kelsey?"

Dad's eyes softened again, but the fear didn't leave. "Go," he said quietly. "Get some rest."

I stood, forcing my legs to move like they belonged to me. "Come on, Hailey," I said, gentler.

Hailey slid off her chair, grabbing her teddy, and hurried to my side.

As we left the dining room, I heard Jack's voice, low and sharp, aimed at Dad.

"This isn't going to end well, Gabriel."

Dad's reply came even lower. "You're overreacting. I have everything under control."

Elise's voice followed, still sweet, but now edged. "I know you do, and I can only imagine how difficult things have been for you lately, but perhaps you should consider…" Her voice became muffled. I kept walking.

Upstairs, our room felt exactly as it had the night before, two narrow beds, one window framing the forest like a painting of a bleak landscape. Hailey climbed onto her mattress, teddy tucked under her arm.

"Are we in trouble?" she whispered.

My throat tightened. I sat on the edge of her bed and smoothed her hair back. "No," I lied automatically, because that's what older sisters did. "We're just… adjusting."

She blinked sleepily. "I don't think Grandpa Jack likes us very much."

I swallowed. "And I think Grandpa Jack doesn't like anyone."

That earned a tiny, tired laugh from her. Then she yawned, curling into herself.

When her breathing finally evened out, I stood and went to the window.

Outside, the porch light flickered again, and the trees beyond it stood black and still, pressed together like they were listening. Somewhere downstairs, a floorboard creaked. A low murmur of voices drifted up, too quiet to make out words.

I rested my forehead against the cool glass and shut my eyes.

Whatever Dad wasn't telling me wasn't just a secret. It was a web of old rules shaping the entire town, and I was stumbling through it blindfolded.

Outside, the rising wind filled the forest with whispers. A single, lonely howl rose from the depths of the dark.

I didn't move until the silence returned.

Then I backed away from the window and locked the door, even though I knew, with sick certainty, that locks in this world served only to keep me inside.