Haunt – Eloise Alon

She called campus security. Twice. No answer. It rang, then cut to static. She locked every bolt on her door and slid to the ground, chest tight. The next morning, Ezra returned. He looked exhausted. Snow in his hair. Dirt under his nails. She opened the door, too numb to speak. “I followed him,” Ezra said. “I followed Ven.” Camille stared. “Where did he go?” “Nowhere. Everywhere. He’s been watching all of us. He’s not done.” “Did he leave that bracelet?”

Ezra looked at her long and hard. “You were supposed to be his redemption. Now he wants to be your ghost.” She clutched the bracelet in her palm, and it suddenly felt like a noose. The line between haunting and devotion was thinning—and Camille had no idea which side anyone stood on anymore. Not even herself.

OceanofPDF.com Snow fell softly against the windowpane as Camille lay on her side, eyes open, heart pounding in rhythm with the ticking of Ezra’s old clock. That night, he didn’t leave. He lay beside her in silence, arms encircling her without pressure. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t flinch. “I dreamt you stopped breathing,” Ezra whispered.

“I dreamt I finally did,” she replied. He kissed her shoulder. Their hands found each other under the blanket. He didn’t rush. Every movement was reverent, like he thought she might disappear if he touched her too hard. “Are you afraid?” she asked. “Yes,” Ezra admitted. “Of hurting you. Of losing you. Of not being the one you choose.” She turned to face him. “I don’t want to be chosen like an object.

I just want peace.” “I’ll give you that. Even if it means fighting him,” he said. A knock echoed faintly down the hallway. When Camille opened the door, no one was there. Only a red thread tied tightly around her doorknob. She untied it, hands trembling. “Blood thread,” Ezra muttered behind her. “Old superstition. A promise. Or a warning.” Later that day, Ven was spotted in the chapel. A classmate texted her: He’s sitting in the back pew like nothing happened.

Whispering to himself. Camille didn’t go. Instead, she found Jasper waiting near the library steps, hunched against the cold. He wasn’t sneering. He wasn’t smirking. He was crying.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. For information, contact: [email protected] OceanofPDF.com TABLE OF CONTENTS BOOKS FROM THIS AUTHOR: CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 CHAPTER 31 CHAPTER 32 CHAPTER 33 CHAPTER 34 CHAPTER 35 CHAPTER 36 CHAPTER 37 CHAPTER 38 CHAPTER 39 CHAPTER 40 CHAPTER 41 CHAPTER 42 CHAPTER 43 CHAPTER 44 CHAPTER 45 CHAPTER 46 CHAPTER 47 CHAPTER 48 CHAPTER 49 CHAPTER 50 CHAPTER 51 CHAPTER 52 CHAPTER 53 CHAPTER 54 CHAPTER 55 CHAPTER 56 CHAPTER 57 CHAPTER 58 CHAPTER 59 CHAPTER 60 SIGN UP FOR UPDATES OTHER BOOKS FROM THIS AUTHOR: OCEANOFPDF.COM BOOKS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Submission Compulsion Stalkers Volume 1 Devotion Thirst Mania Fixation Spiral Owned Series OceanofPDF.com CHAPTER 1 Camille’s fingers trembled around the envelope she’d rewritten three times.

It wasn’t much—just a folded piece of parchment, her name signed in blue ink at the bottom, and a string of delicate words that had taken her three weeks and six breakdowns to compose. She gripped it tighter, the corners softening with her sweat, as she made her way through the echoing corridor of the Meridian. The hall was high-ceilinged and reverent, built from pale stone and lined with stained-glass windows that filtered sunlight into pools of violet and amber.

Dust swirled in the golden beams. Footsteps clapped faintly against the herringbone floor, but no one dared speak too loudly in this part of Saint Imperium. The Meridian wasn’t just a building—it was a monument. Ven Straithmore stood at the far end beneath a circular window etched with the college seal.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• File Extension: .pdf
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• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 216
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 165.31 minutes
• Total Words: 33,061
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