The group scattered like prey in a predator's shadow. Doors creaked, footsteps thudded, whispers hissed through the dark. Every sound felt too loud, like the house was listening.
Serena and Ryder hid in a closet, but they weren't alone in fear. Down the hall, Pierce shoved Tango into a linen closet, his voice sharp and brittle:
"Stay quiet. Don't move."
"I can't-" Tango's whisper cracked. "I can't breathe in here."
"Then hold your breath," Pierce snapped, slamming the door shut. His own hands were shaking so badly he could barely grip the knob.
Across the hall, Aria crouched under a bed, knees pressed to her chest. Her phone was gone, her lifeline severed. She stared at the dust swirling in the beam of her tiny flashlight, biting her lip until it bled. Tim screamed like that. And then he was gone. The thought looped in her head like a broken record.
Talia found a wardrobe and slipped inside, heart pounding against the wood. She pressed her ear to the door, listening to the voice drifting through the house sweet, playful, wrong:
"Ready or not… here I come…"
The sound of footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, like a child savoring a game.
In the bedroom, Serena leaned against the closet inside, clutching her bandaged hand. Blood still seeped through, warm and sticky. Ryder crouched beside her, his breath steady even though his pulse was racing. He didn't speak just listened, every muscle taut like a drawn bow.
Serena broke the silence with a whisper. "Do you think it's… human?"
Ryder's jaw tightened. "Does that make it better?"
She almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat when the footsteps stopped. The voice was closer now—right outside the door:
"Found you…"
The knob turned slowly.
The house was silent...too silent. The kind of silence that presses against your ears until you swear you can hear your own blood moving.
Then the voice broke it.
Sweet. Childlike. Wrong.
"Serena…"
Her stomach dropped. It wasn't just calling—it was singing her name, stretching the syllables like a lullaby.
Ryder stiffened in the dark closet, his grip tightening on her wrist. His breath was steady, but his pulse was a drumbeat against her skin.
Across the hall, Pierce froze mid-step, eyes wide. "It knows her name," he whispered, voice cracking.
Aria clamped a hand over her mouth under the bed, tears streaking her cheeks. She could hear Tango's muffled sobs from the closet next to hers, each one like a beacon screaming here I am.
Talia pressed herself deeper into the wardrobe, nails digging into the wood. Her heart hammered so hard she thought it might shake the door. The voice drifted closer, soft and playful:
"Serena… come out, come out…"
The footsteps followed—slow, deliberate, savoring the hunt. Then—silence.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. No one breathed.
And then the knob of their closet door turned. Slowly. Deliberately.
Serena's breath hitched. Ryder's hand closed over hers, firm and grounding. He mouthed one word: Run.
But before she could move, the voice whispered right outside the door, sweet and sharp:
"Player Two… found."
The door slammed open.