The air outside the house felt like it was holding its breath.
The night was still, thick with the smell of rain. Shadows from the trees cut jagged lines across the walls of the small house.
Adrian moved closer to the window. He couldn't see much, only the reflection of the room's light, but deep in his chest he felt a vibration, faint and unnatural.
Clara felt it too. A shiver crawled down her spine.
"Adrian…" she whispered. "He's here."
He turned sharply, his eyes hardening like glass.
"Are you sure?"
"I can feel him. Outside. He's close."
Giulia clutched the back of the chair, pale.
"Who are you talking about?"
No one answered. Then came the sound.
A soft tap. And another. Like fingers brushing against the glass.
Adrian motioned for silence and crept along the corridor, eyes fixed on the window.
Clara's breathing quickened, her pulse hammering in her ears. She could feel the killer, not just outside, but inside her head, a distorted heartbeat echoing against her thoughts.
A whisper not her own flickered through her mind.
I see you.
Clara gasped and clutched her temples.
Adrian grabbed her arm, shaking her gently.
"Clara! Stay with me!"
That's when the window exploded. Glass shattered in a burst of sound and wind.
A dark figure crashed through, the knife flashing under the weak lamp light.
Adrian moved on instinct. He lunged, ramming into the intruder's chest, trying to knock the weapon away.
The killer twisted like an animal, feral and fast. The blade slashed upward, a silver arc, and sank deep into Adrian's side.
Clara screamed.
"No!"
Her scream became something else, energy.
The walls seemed to breathe. The air rippled, pulsing with invisible force.
The killer turned toward her and froze for an instant. Her eyes glowed gold, a storm trapped behind them.
"Stop," she whispered.
He laughed, a broken, rasping sound. Then he lunged, knocking her to the ground.
The knife rose again, its edge catching the faint moonlight.
Clara caught his wrist, trembling. She tried to reach into his mind, to push him back the way she'd done before, but fear crushed her focus. Her vision blurred; blood ran down her face. Behind her, Adrian was trying to stand, pain tearing through him. Blood soaked his shirt, pooling beneath him.
"Clara…" he breathed. "Run…"
But she didn't move. Her power burned inside her chest, wild and desperate, but the knife was already there, hovering inches from her eye. The killer pressed it closer, his breath hot on her skin.
Clara gasped, her muscles shaking.
She pushed with every ounce of will she had left, but nothing happened. Her thoughts were a storm of terror and love, Adrian bleeding, Adrian calling her name inside her mind.
Then, a crash. The back door burst open in a roar of splintering wood.
A figure stormed into the room, a blur of motion. They grabbed the killer by the shoulder and hurled him across the room.
The man hit the wall hard, the sound echoing like thunder.
The knife clattered to the floor.
Clara coughed, pulling herself up. Through the haze of dust, she saw the figure standing in the doorway. Tall. Steady. Face hidden beneath a hood soaked with rain.
Their hands trembled from the effort, but their presence filled the room like gravity.
The killer staggered up, blood dripping down his arm. He turned toward the shattered window, and vanished into the dark, swallowed by the storm.
Silence.
Clara's knees gave way. She looked toward the stranger.
"Who… who are you?"
No answer. Just a step closer, slow, heavy.
Then a low, strained voice:
"No time."
Clara turned to Adrian, still on the floor, blood staining his side.
The figure knelt beside him, pressed two fingers to his side. For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Then the voice came again, barely above a whisper:
"He's alive. But not safe yet."