Behind the Door:
Amara's blood ran cold.
Her lips parted, but for a second, no sound came out. The darkness in her apartment suddenly felt alive—thick, suffocating, full of things she couldn't see.
On the phone, Ethan's breathing had gone dangerously quiet.
"Amara," he said again, lower this time, sharper. "Did you lock the door?"
Her heartbeat pounded so hard it hurt. "I—I don't know," she whispered.
She heard him curse under his breath.
"Listen to me carefully," Ethan said, his voice clipped now, controlled in the kind of way that only made her panic worse. "Do not go near the hallway. Do you understand me?"
Another creak came from outside her room.
Closer this time.
Amara's fingers tightened around the phone until her hand began to shake. The sound had definitely come from outside her room. Someone was in the apartment.
Her chest tightened so fast she almost forgot how to breathe. "Ethan…" Her voice broke. "Someone's here."
"I know."
Her stomach dropped. "What do you mean, you know?" she whispered harshly.
But he ignored the question. "Is your bedroom door open?"
Amara turned slowly. The faint outline of her room barely showed in the darkness. Her curtains were half-drawn, letting in just enough streetlight to cast weak silver shapes across the floor.
Her bedroom door was slightly open.
Just enough to reveal the pitch-black hallway outside.
Her throat tightened. "Yes."
"Lock it."
Her body moved before her mind caught up. Amara rushed to the door as quietly as she could, every nerve in her body screaming. Her bare feet made almost no sound against the cold floor, but to her, every step felt deafening.
She reached the door, grabbed the handle with trembling fingers, and slowly pushed it shut. The soft click of it closing sounded too loud in the silence. Then she turned the lock.
Her breath came in shallow bursts.
"Done," she whispered.
"Good."
But Ethan didn't sound relieved.
He sounded like he was trying not to lose control.
Amara backed away from the door until the backs of her legs hit the bed. She sat down hard, still clutching the phone.
"Tell me what's happening," she said, her voice unsteady. "Right now."
Silence.
Then a quiet sound came from the other side of the door.
A slow scrape.
Like something—or someone—dragging their hand lightly across the wood.
Amara slapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from making a sound. Her whole body went rigid.
On the phone, Ethan heard it too.
His voice changed instantly. "Get away from the door."
Amara scrambled backward on instinct, nearly dropping the phone as she stumbled toward the far side of the room. Her breathing was ragged now.
"Ethan—"
"Amara, listen to me."
"I am listening!"
"Then listen properly," he said, his voice lower now, steadier. "Is there any other way out of your room?"
Amara turned toward the window. Her apartment was on the second floor.
"There's the window."
"Can you get out through it?"
She moved toward it quickly, pulling the curtain aside with shaky fingers. Her heart sank immediately. The metal frame outside was too narrow. The drop below looked worse in the dark.
"No," she said. "I don't think so."
A beat of silence passed.
Then Ethan muttered something under his breath.
Amara pressed her free hand against her chest, trying to calm the violent pounding there. "Ethan… please stop hiding things from me. Who is outside my room?"
He didn't answer immediately.
And somehow, that silence hurt almost as much as the fear.
Because even now—even now—he was still keeping her in the dark.
"Ethan!"
Finally, he spoke.
"I don't know if it's them or just a warning."
Her entire body stiffened. "Them?"
He exhaled slowly. The sound was heavy. Defeated.
And for the first time since she had met him, Ethan sounded afraid.
Not for himself.
For her.
"I tried to keep you out of this," he said, his voice low and rough. "That's why I pushed you away."
Amara's chest tightened painfully.
The words should have comforted her.
Instead, they made her want to scream.
"You don't get to say that now," she whispered, tears burning behind her eyes. "Not after what you did."
"I know."
The quietness in his voice made it worse.
"I know."
Her throat ached.
Then came a soft, deliberate knock from the other side of the door.
Amara went completely still.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Slow.
Patient.
Intentional.
Like whoever was outside wasn't in a hurry.
Like they knew she was in there.
A cold wave of terror washed through her.
"Oh my God…"
"Do not answer it," Ethan said immediately.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" she snapped, panic sharpening her tone.
"No," he said. "I think you're scared."
That broke something in her.
Her knees weakened, and she slid down against the wall beside the window, hugging herself with one arm while holding the phone to her ear with the other.
She hated how right he was.
She hated that she was terrified.
And she hated most of all that the only person she wanted near her right now was the same person who had shattered her heart that morning.
"Amara," Ethan said softly.
She closed her eyes. "What?"
"I need you to trust me for the next few minutes."
Her laugh came out broken. "Trust you?"
The word itself felt bitter.
He didn't argue.
Didn't defend himself.
And somehow that made the silence between them even more painful.
Then he said quietly, "I know I don't deserve that."
Her eyes opened slowly.
The honesty in his voice hit her harder than anger would have.
Outside the room, the knocking stopped.
The silence that followed was somehow worse.
"Ethan…" she whispered.
"I'm here."
"I can't hear anything anymore."
His answer came instantly. "That doesn't mean they left."
A chill moved down her spine.
Her fingers were trembling so badly now she could barely hold the phone.
Then suddenly—
A loud thud hit the bedroom door.
Amara screamed.
Another hit followed, harder this time. The door rattled violently.
"Ethan!"
"Stay away from it!" he barked. "Amara, stay down!"
The door shook again under a heavy impact. The lock strained.
Her breathing turned wild, uneven. Tears spilled down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.
"Please," she gasped. "Please, Ethan—"
"I'm coming."
The words hit her like lightning.
She froze. "What?"
"I'm close."
Her heart stopped.
"You're what?"
But he was already moving. She could hear it now—his breathing, the rush of air, the sound of a car door slamming somewhere on his end.
"You said you weren't coming back," she whispered.
"I lied."
The door slammed again.
A crack splintered through the wood near the handle.
Amara let out a choked sound and pressed herself harder into the corner beside the window. The room felt too small, the darkness too close, her fear too big.
"Ethan, they're breaking in!"
"Listen to me!" His voice cut through her panic with terrifying force. "When I tell you to move, you move. Don't hesitate. Don't question me. Just do it."
Her chest heaved. "Okay."
He was breathing harder now. Fast. Urgent.
"Do you still have that paper?"
Amara blinked through tears. "What?"
"The address," he said sharply. "The one Daniel gave you. Do you still have it?"
Her stomach twisted.
Daniel.
So Ethan knew.
"Yes."
"Good. If anything happens, you take it and run."
"Ethan—"
"No arguments."
The bedroom door groaned under another violent hit.
The lock gave a horrible metallic snap.
Amara's scream tore out of her before she could stop it.
The door burst open.
Darkness filled the doorway.
A figure stepped inside.
Amara couldn't see the face.
Only the shape.
Tall.
Still.
Watching her.
For one suspended second, no one moved.
Then the figure took one step forward.
Amara scrambled back, her entire body shaking.
"Ethan!" she cried.
And then—
A second voice cut through the darkness.
Cold.
Male.
And horrifyingly calm.
"Found you."
Amara's blood turned to ice.
On the phone, Ethan went deadly silent.
Then she heard him say one thing.
One thing that made her heart stop completely.
"Amara…" he said, his voice hollow with shock. "That's not possible."