Ayla’s POV
I tapped the phone thirteen times, counting carefully even though my hands were shaking.
"Thirteen," Derek repeated. "I see it. I'm right outside."
I heard footsteps running up to the door. Real footsteps, not creaking floorboards. Derek's footsteps.
He tried the door handle from outside. "It's locked," he said into the phone. "Ayla, can you unlock it?"
I tried again, twisting the handle with all my strength. It wouldn't turn. Wouldn't move at all.
I tapped the phone twice. No. I can't.
"Okay," Derek said, and his voice had taken on that same determined tone from the trust course. "Step back from the door. Get away from it. I'm going to break it down."
I stumbled backward into the darkness, nearly tripping over my discarded bag.
"Ready?" Derek called through the door. "
