Chapter 18: Don’t Make a Sound
827 Words
The second knock didn’t feel like a request.
It felt like a warning.
My heart slammed against my chest so hard it almost hurt, and for a second, I couldn’t even breathe properly. The energy in the room shifted instantly, thick and dangerous, like something was about to break. I looked at him, searching his face for answers, but whatever I saw there only made things worse.
He wasn’t surprised.
He was expecting this.
“Step back,” he said quickly, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through my panic.
“What—”
“Now.”
Something in his tone made me listen. I moved back without arguing this time, my feet carrying me away from the door as he stepped in front of me, positioning himself between me and whatever was outside. My mind was racing, trying to catch up, trying to understand how things had escalated this fast, but nothing made sense anymore.
The knock came again.
Harder.
More aggressive.
“Open the door.”
The voice from outside was different. Deeper. Colder. Not familiar. Not someone I knew. And that alone sent fear straight through me.
I shook my head instinctively, even though they couldn’t see me. “I’m not opening it,” I whispered, my voice barely there.
“Good,” he muttered under his breath.
He glanced around quickly, his eyes scanning the room like he was calculating something, planning something. This wasn’t random to him. This wasn’t confusion. He knew what to do, and that scared me almost as much as the situation itself.
“Is there a back way out?” he asked.
I hesitated. “Why?”
Another loud bang against the door made me flinch.
“Because we’re running out of time.”
My stomach dropped. “You’re not serious.”
He looked at me, and whatever I saw in his eyes erased any doubt.
“I’ve never been more serious.”
The person outside hit the door again, this time even louder, the sound echoing through the entire space. It wasn’t knocking anymore. It was force. It was pressure. Like they were testing how much it would take to break through.
“Open the door!” the voice shouted again, louder now, angrier.
My hands started shaking. “Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, but his jaw tightened right after, like that answer frustrated him more than anything.
“You said they’ve been watching us,” I said quickly, my words rushing out now. “So how do you not know who they are?”
“Because whoever this is,” he replied, lowering his voice again, “they’re careful. Too careful.”
Another hit.
Stronger.
The door rattled this time.
I gasped softly, stepping back again, my body reacting before my mind could even process it. “They’re going to break it.”
“Not if we don’t give them time.”
He moved toward me quickly, grabbing my wrist, not rough, but firm enough to pull me with him. My heart jumped at the sudden contact, but I didn’t fight him this time. There wasn’t space for hesitation anymore.
“Where’s the back exit?” he asked again.
“In the kitchen,” I said, my voice unsteady.
“Show me.”
We moved fast.
Every step felt too loud, every sound amplified by the fear running through me. The banging on the door didn’t stop, it only got worse, louder, more aggressive, like they knew we were still inside and were running out of patience.
“Stop hiding!” the voice shouted.
My chest tightened. They knew.
They knew we were here.
We reached the kitchen, and I pointed toward the back door, my hand trembling slightly. “There.”
He moved ahead of me, checking it quickly before unlocking it. The cool night air slipped in immediately, brushing against my skin and sending a chill through my body.
For a second, I thought we were safe.
Then he froze.
“What?” I asked, my voice barely holding together.
He didn’t answer right away.
Slowly, he stepped aside.
And that’s when I saw it.
A car.
Parked right behind the house.
Engine still running.
Lights off.
Waiting.
My heart dropped so fast it felt like everything inside me collapsed at once.
“They covered both exits,” he said quietly.
Panic rushed through me instantly. “So what do we do?”
For the first time since he walked in, he didn’t respond immediately.
And that silence scared me more than anything else tonight.
Because it meant one thing.
We were out of options.
The banging at the front door suddenly stopped.
Completely.
The silence that followed was worse.
He looked at me again, his voice lower now, controlled but urgent.
“They’re coming in.”
And right on cue—
A loud crack echoed through the house.
The front door had just given way.
- Writer
