Knock. Knock.
The sound returned—soft, sure. Not a pounding. Not a plea. But a call. Like the night itself had curled its fingers into a fist and tapped gently against her door.
Georgia froze mid-breath. Her skin prickled. There was something unnatural in that sound. Something ancient.
She didn't answer. Didn't move.
Knock.
Slower this time. Heavier. Each pause between the raps stretched long enough for her heart to thunder once—twice.
She swallowed and stepped back from the mirror. Her hands curled into fists, though she felt anything but strong.
"Who is it?" she demanded, her voice slicing the air like a blade.
No answer.
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was thick. Like the space beyond the door was holding its breath. Watching. Waiting.
With a hi
