The voice floating down the staircase was soft.
Too soft.
Too delicate to belong to a ghost.
Too familiar to be a stranger.
It slid through the air like silk dipped in poison.
“Saasshhaaaa… come to mama…”
Sasha’s entire body locked.
Her lungs refused to breathe.
Her blood froze in her veins.
Nora instinctively shoved Sasha and Mila behind her, shielding them with her own body.
“Sasha don’t move,” Nora whispered urgently.
But Sasha couldn’t move even if she tried.
Her knees trembled violently.
Her fingers dug into the fabric of the couch.
Because the voice—
that voice—
triggered something deep inside her.
Not memory.
Not pain.
Instinct.
A primal, childlike instinct that whispered:
Run.
Hide.
She’s not safe.
Upstairs, crashes erupted—Demetri’s boots pounding, Ivan sho
