The footsteps grow louder, each step echoing through the dim room. My heart races, my breath shallow, as I freeze, not daring to make a sound. My pulse drums in my ears, and I instinctively grip the edge of the chair, the wood digging into my palms.
Who's there?
The door creaks open, and I hold my breath. The darkness in the hallway beyond is thick, like the air itself is holding secrets. My eyes strain, trying to make out any shape, any figure. The silhouette that steps into the room isn't Vance. It's someone else.
I swallow hard, my throat tight with fear. The figure doesn't move at first, just standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the faint light from the desk lamp. Their face is hidden in shadow, but I can feel their presence like a weight in the room. I can sense the danger, the malice lingering in the air.
"Who are you?" I whisper, my voice shaky, barely audible.
There's no response. The figure steps forward, and the sound of their footsteps fills the room, slower this time, calculated. I want to get up, to run, but my body is frozen in place, as if the fear has anchored me to the chair.
Suddenly, the door slams shut behind them, and I jump, my heart leaping into my throat. The room is even darker now, the dim light from the desk barely cutting through the gloom.
The figure steps closer, their shadow stretching across the floor, reaching toward me like something alive. A cold chill sweeps over me, and I can't breathe, can't move. The figure finally speaks, their voice smooth, controlled.
"You don't know what you've gotten yourself into, do you, Amara?"
I stiffen at the mention of my name. How does this person know who I am?
I force myself to speak, though my voice quivers with the weight of fear. "What do you want?"
The figure chuckles softly, the sound low and chilling. They step fully into the light, and I can see them clearly now. Their face is unfamiliar, but there's something in their eyes—something cold, calculating. It's a woman, tall, dressed in black from head to toe. Her eyes glint with a predatory gleam, and she smiles in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.
"I'm not here for you, Amara," she says, her voice dripping with amusement. "I'm here because of what you carry."
The words hit me like a punch. What I carry? What does that mean?
"Who are you?" I demand, trying to sound braver than I feel. "What do you want with me?"
She steps closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart hammering in my chest. "Like I said, I'm not here for you. Not yet, anyway. But what you have... It's something they want. Something I want."
I don't know what she's talking about, and I don't know how to respond. I feel the panic rising in my chest, but I fight to keep it under control. What do I have?
"You'll understand soon enough, Amara," the woman continues, her smile widening. "But for now, let's just say... you're in over your head."
Before I can ask more, the sound of the door creaking open again interrupts us. This time, it's not Vance returning. I don't even need to look to know who it is.
Jaxon.
My stomach twists with dread as he steps into the room, his face shadowed, his presence heavy. The woman turns toward him, her eyes narrowing, though her smile doesn't falter.
"Well, well," she says, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
Jaxon doesn't respond right away. He simply walks further into the room, his gaze never leaving me. There's something in the way he looks at me that makes my skin crawl, something possessive, something dangerous.
"What is this?" I demand, my voice trembling. "What do you want with me? What's going on?"
Jaxon stops just a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his eyes cold. He watches me for a moment, his lips curling into that same, twisted smile.
"You're the key, Amara," he says, his voice low, almost soothing in its calmness. "You've always been the key. And now, it's time for you to unlock the door."
My mind spins, trying to process his words. Unlock the door? What door? What does he mean by that?
The woman chuckles softly from behind me. "She still doesn't get it, does she?"
Jaxon doesn't answer. Instead, he steps closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. My heart races, panic threatening to take over as I try to back away. But there's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
"You have no idea what you're part of, Amara," he says softly. "You never did. But it's too late now. The door is opening, and you're going to be the one to walk through it."
The door. It's all they've been talking about. Unlocking it, walking through it. But what does it mean? What am I supposed to do?
"I don't understand," I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips.
"You will," Jaxon says, his voice cold. "You'll understand soon enough."
Suddenly, the air in the room grows heavier, colder, and I feel like I can't breathe. The darkness presses in, suffocating, as if the room itself is closing in around me. The woman's smile widens, and I see the faintest glint of something in her hand. A knife.
The cold steel reflects the dim light, and a chill runs through me. I can't move, can't think. All I can do is stare at the knife, then back at Jaxon and the woman.
What is happening?
I open my mouth to say something, to ask for help, but before I can, Vance bursts through the door, his expression wild with panic. He's holding something in his hand, but I don't see what it is before he throws it across the room.
"Get away from her!" Vance shouts, his voice sharp, desperate.
The woman's expression falters for just a second, but that's all the time Vance needs. He lunges forward, and the room erupts into chaos.