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I can only nod as he lowers his hand. I’m still trying to make sense of the situation when we both hear it at the same time—a dull thud in the hallway. It sounds like the massive vase around five doors from mine.
Luca goes rigid, turning his head slightly toward the door, and I sense the shift in him. When he faces me again, he wraps a hand around my wrist, tugging me to stand and lifting a finger over his lips—a reminder for me to stay silent.
There’s nowhere to hide. The bathroom door often creaks, the bed is too low to the floor, and there’s nothing else … except.
He leads me toward the wardrobe in front of the bed. It’s big enough to fit both of us, and he eases it open as quietly as he can, the hinges creaking just enough to make my breath catch.
The space inside is cramped, filled with my clothes, shoes, trench coats, jackets, and all the important files in one corner.
He pushes me inside first and follows quickly, pulling the door shut behind us and plunging us into total darkness. The air is stifling, and his bare back is pressed against my breast, my own back against the hard wooden wall of the cabinet.
Clothing brushes against the sides of my face, and in here, every sound seems magnified.
I don’t even dare to breathe.
We both strain to hear any sound, Luca’s frame completely blocking me.
Soft, deliberate footsteps move through the hallway, stopping in front of my door, followed by a faint groan. It’s a long, drawn-out sound, and Luca’s muscles tense, as though he’s ready to spring into whoever this intruder is.
The door swings open fully, and I hear not one or two but multiple footsteps.
Oh God. It’s not just one man.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands flying to my mouth, when the footsteps grow louder, closer.
The seconds stretch into what feels like hours, and the fear settles into a cold, hard knot in my stomach. Luca reaches for my hand, squeezing it, even as sweat soaks my nightgown, beads sliding down my spine.
The heavy, haunting silence is suddenly replaced by low murmurs of voices. I can’t make out what they’re saying since the pulse is too loud in my ears.
I can hear the tension in their hushed voices, though, voices overlapping, words laced with urgency, the whispers sharp and quick.
Luca begins to crouch in front of me—or at least, his version of a crouch, given the small space. He’s preparing himself to fight if they open the door.
But they don’t.
A suffocating weight presses down on me, and I lean into Luca for support. His sweaty skin against my cheek as I try to get more air into my lungs.
Every breath I take is shallow and fast, my pulse a rapid, relentless thudding in my temples that grows louder and louder. The cold sweat on my palms makes them slick as I abandon any self-preservation and wrap my arms around Luca’s waist.
I can’t stop the flood of terrifying thoughts racing in my head. I should’ve left. I should’ve listened to him and packed out of here.
But I didn’t. Now we’re going to die.
My stomach churns, a wave of nausea rising. Under my palms, Luca’s muscles coil tightly like a spring. The urge to run, to escape, is almost overwhelming, but there’s nowhere to run.
All we have is this thin door separating us from them. The darkness inside is alive, crawling on my skin, filling my mind with terror.
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, that the panic is about to boil over and consume me, I feel Luca rest a hand over mine. “They’re gone.”
I’m not ready to believe him until I hear the footsteps grow fainter, moving farther away from us. A few minutes later, a car door opens, and its engine rumbles.
The car idles for a moment, and then we hear a crunching sound of tires on gravel.
My body unclenches, fear draining away.
“Lila, I need to check if they’re really gone,” he whispers.
I’m still frozen in place, and the last thing I want is to be alone. “Please don’t leave me.”
