At first, there was darkness.
Not the kind that came with nightfall.
The kind that felt alive.
The kind that pressed against Aubrey's eyes and ears and lungs, swallowing sound and turning every shadow into something waiting to move.
The front door creaked open beneath her hand.
The familiar sound should have been comforting.
Instead, it made her stomach twist.
Her boots stepped across the wooden floor of the house in Illinois, each footfall producing a soft groan from the aging boards.
This was supposed to be safe.
That thought hit her immediately.
Safe.
That was the entire reason she had left them here.
Carl.
Adira.
The others.
They had food.
Shelter.
Locked doors.
Distance from the worst of everything.
This place was supposed to be safe.
Yet the moment she stepped inside, something felt wrong.
The smell hit first.
Blood.
Not faint.
Not old.
Fresh.
So fresh that her throat tightened.
Aubrey froze just inside the doorway.
