Bright red blood splattered across the black-and-white photo frame, making the smiling faces inside look disturbingly eerie.

Among the pile of frames, Sylvia Newton caught sight of her own picture.

Her scalp tingled, goosebumps rising as a chill raced through her body. She stumbled backward a few steps, face pale as if she’d just seen a ghost.

Lucian frowned and lifted one of the frames. Familiar faces stared back at family portraits of everyone they knew.

Then, with a furious kick, he sent the frame flying.

“Damn it! Who did this?!”

Putting up black-and-white photos of living people—

That was a curse. A death wish.

Who could hate the Newton...