*BOOM!*
The heavy oak groaned, a hairline fracture splintering down the center panel. Dust rained from the ceiling, coating my eyelashes as I scrambled backward on the floor.
*BOOM!*
"Seraphina..."
The voice didn't come from a monster throwing a tantrum. It was low. Smooth. Devastatingly calm. It slithered through the tiny iron grate of the peephole, dripping with a sickening, mocking sweetness that made my stomach turn entirely to ice.
"Open the door, little bird," Stephen said. He sounded pleasant, like a man greeting an old friend over tea. "Come now. Be a good girl. I'm only here to play."
The contrast between his polite tone and the violent shudder of the door was deeply unnerving. He wasn't rushing. He was enjoying the hunt.
