ILIANA’S POV
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“Mom?” I slip into the house. It’s eerily quiet, and it feels cold. I’m used to it being busy, usually the sound of voices carries through the halls. The quietness sends a shiver down my spine as I put my bag down in the foyer, and glance up the stairs.
“Mom!” I call out again, my shoulder sagging when there isn’t a response. Squaring my shoulders, I ascend the stairs, my hand gliding along the wooden railing as I watch my step, not that I need to. I know every hook and crane of this place.
I reach the very top, and strut toward the shut door at the very end. It’s only ever been this quiet in the night, and to see it like this during the day is somewhat creepy. I knock on the door, and my mother’s voice sends a sense of relief through my bones. “Come in,” he beams, not
