Ethan Ward wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—the radio’s raspy voice still echoing in his skull or the fact that Sophie Bennett was staring at him like he’d just sprouted horns. The girl stood in the doorway of the ghost house office, her sneakers scuffing the dusty floor, her hazel eyes darting between him and the now-silent radio. “So,” she said, breaking the awkward quiet, “did I interrupt something, or is this place just that welcoming?”

He snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s rolling out the red carpet. You missed the part where the furniture started talking.” He waved a hand at the radio, its glow faded but its presence still heavy, like a stranger watching from the corner. “Lawyer didn’t mention an intern. You sure you’re in the right dump?”

Sophie grinned, undeterred, and dropped her backpack with a thud. “Oh, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Got the call last week—some guy named Hargrove said you’re the new owner and could use a hand. I’m a sophomore at Indiana State, psych major. Figured this beats flipping burgers.” She tilted her head, peering at the cobwebs. “Plus, I’m kinda into creepy stuff. You know, for fun.”

“Fun,” Ethan echoed, deadpan. “You’re gonna fit right in.” He wasn’t sure if she was brave or just naive, but either way, she’d walked into his mess now. He glanced at the radio again, half-expecting it to chime in, but it stayed mute. “Fine. You can stay. Just don’t touch anything that looks like it might bite.”

“Deal.” Sophie clapped her hands, the sound sharp in the gloom. “So, boss, what’s the plan? Clean this place up? Open it to the public? Summon a demon?” She waggled her eyebrows, clearly enjoying herself.

Ethan opened his mouth to answer—probably with something sarcastic about exorcising his bank account—when the static flared again. A harsh crackle ripped through the office, loud enough to make Sophie jump. The radio’s dial spun, clicking past dead frequencies, and that voice slithered out once more. “The manor’s whisper awaits,” it said, slow and deliberate, each word sinking into the air like damp rot. “Find her gaze. Unlock the Haven.”

The static cut off as abruptly as it started, leaving a ringing silence. Ethan’s pulse thudded in his ears. He turned to Sophie, who’d gone pale, her grin replaced by a wide-eyed stare. “Okay,” she breathed, “that was not my playlist. What the hell was that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Ethan said, forcing his voice steady. He stepped closer to the radio, peering at its cracked face. “Manor’s whisper. Find her gaze. Sounds like a bad riddle—or a worse job offer.” He didn’t want to admit how much it unnerved him, that voice knowing his name, calling him a keeper. It felt personal, like it had crawled out of his past.

Sophie edged up beside him, curiosity overtaking her shock. “Maybe it’s part of the gimmick? Like, a pre-recorded thing your parents set up to scare people?” She tapped the radio lightly, then yanked her hand back when it hissed faintly. “Or… not.”

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“Yeah, I’m betting ‘not.’” Ethan grabbed a flashlight from his duffel—because of course the Haven’s lights were mostly dead—and flicked it on. “Only one way to find out. You coming?”

Sophie blinked. “Wait, you’re actually doing it? Whatever ‘it’ is?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea.” He shrugged, already heading for the main hall. “Besides, if I’m stuck with this place, I might as well see what’s whispering.”

She hesitated, then scooped up her backpack and jogged after him. “Fine, but if we die, I’m haunting you first.”

The Haunted Haven’s interior was a maze of shadowed corridors and cheap spooky props—plastic skulls, creaky doors, a mannequin in a tattered tuxedo that Ethan swore moved when he wasn’t looking. He swept the flashlight beam across the walls, half-expecting a neon sign screaming Manor This Way, but all he got was dust and disappointment. Then Sophie pointed. “There. That door’s different.”

She was right. Tucked at the end of a narrow hall was a wooden door, heavier than the rest, with faint carvings of vines curling around the edges. No cobwebs, no grime—like it’d been waiting. Ethan’s gut twisted, but he pushed it open anyway.

The room beyond was small, its walls paneled in dark wood that swallowed the flashlight’s glow. A single object dominated the space: a portrait, tall and framed in tarnished gold, hanging crookedly above a cracked fireplace. The woman in the painting stared down at them—pale skin, dark hair spilling over a crimson dress, eyes so sharp they seemed to cut through the canvas. Ethan froze. Those eyes weren’t painted. They moved, tracking him as he stepped closer.

“Holy—” Sophie’s whisper died in her throat. “Is she… looking at us?”

“Yep.” Ethan’s voice was tight. He could feel her gaze, cold and heavy, like a hand on his shoulder. “Guess we found her.” The air thickened, the room growing colder, and a faint whisper brushed his ears—not the radio’s voice, but something softer, sadder. He couldn’t make out the words, but they tugged at him, pulling him toward the portrait.

Sophie grabbed his arm. “Ethan, maybe we should—”

Too late. The whisper sharpened into a single word—“Look”—and the woman’s painted hand twitched. Ethan stumbled back as the canvas rippled, and a hidden panel clicked open in the wall beside the fireplace. Something clattered to the floor—a brass key, etched with a tiny symbol that looked like an eye.

He picked it up, the metal icy against his skin. “Unlock the Haven,” he murmured, echoing the radio. The whisper faded, and the portrait’s eyes went still, lifeless once more. Ethan let out a shaky breath. “Well, that’s one way to start the day.”

Sophie stared at him, then at the key, then back at him. “Okay, Mr. Ward, I take it back. This isn’t creepy as hell—this is nuts. What’s next? We summon her for tea?”

Ethan managed a grin, though his heart was still racing. “Maybe later. First, we figure out what this unlocks.” He pocketed the key, ignoring the way it seemed to hum faintly against his leg. Whatever the radio wanted, it wasn’t done with him yet—and neither, he suspected, was the woman in the painting.