---
**Chapter 13: Faces in the Dark**
The knock echoed again, louder this time, sending a shiver down Isabella's spine. The darkness pressed against her, the faint rustling of the vineyard wind only heightening the eerie silence inside the house. She fumbled for her phone, its weak light barely illuminating the path to the door.
Her hand hovered over the doorknob as her mind raced. Luca was still outside, and whoever was knocking—if it was even a person—was waiting. Summoning her courage, she flung the door open, the gust of wind nearly knocking her back.
No one was there.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she stepped out onto the porch, the flashlight beam slicing through the night. The vineyard stretched before her, empty except for the rustling leaves. And then she heard it—a low, almost imperceptible whisper, like a voice carried on the wind.
"Isabella…"
She froze, her grip tightening on the flashlight. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.
The whisper came again, closer this time, and she turned toward its source. Her flashlight caught a shadow darting between the vines, too quick to follow. But before she could move, a figure emerged from the darkness.
It was Luca, his face pale and his breathing ragged. "What are you doing out here?" he demanded, his voice sharp.
"There was a knock at the door," Isabella said, her eyes scanning the shadows behind him. "I thought it was you."
Luca's expression darkened, and he took her arm, guiding her back into the house. "Stay inside," he said firmly. "Whoever—or whatever—is out there, I don't want you near it."
As they stepped back inside, Isabella noticed his hands were trembling. She didn't press him for answers; instead, she watched as he paced the room, his gaze darting to the window every few seconds.
"Luca," she said gently, "do you think this has something to do with Emilia?"
He stopped pacing, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the question. "I don't know," he admitted. "But the vineyard… it's not just a place. It's alive in its own way. And sometimes, it feels like it's watching."
His words sent a chill through her, but she pushed it aside. "We need to figure out who knocked," she said, her voice steady. "And what they want."
Luca nodded, though the fear in his eyes remained. As the night stretched on, they kept vigil by the window, the unease in the air thick and suffocating. But as the first light of dawn broke over the vineyard, it brought no answers—only more questions.
And in the pale morning light, Isabella noticed something she hadn't before: a single set of footprints leading away from the house, disappearing into the vines.
---