Briar sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall, knees drawn close, and arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her face was ghostly pale, as though every drop of blood had been drained away. She trembled uncontrollably, tears streaking down her cheeks in silent streams.
She had no idea what was happening—only that it felt as though death itself had seized her. The oppressive weight of it had been suffocating, stealing her breath. Now that she could breathe again, she dared not stand, terrified that whatever had just overwhelmed her might return.
From somewhere in the distance, the sharp click of heels against marble reached her ears. A spark of hope flickered in her chest, yet fear kept her rooted in place. What if it were those men from earlier? Or worse—what if the owner of that bone-chilling aura had found a way inside? What could she possibly do then?
