The two sharp knocks shattered the deep, silent isolation I had finally grown accustomed to. My heart didn't just pound; it vaulted into my throat. Every horror story I’d ever heard, every paranoid scenario flashed before my eyes: a thief, a psychopath, a murderer, or worse—a monster—sent by the man himself.
I froze, grasping the heavy iron poker I kept leaning by the stove, my knuckles white.
I crept toward the door, not daring to look through the peephole—it was too exposed. I pressed my ear to the cold wood, hearing only the wind. My mind screamed at me: Don’t open it, Alicia! Don’t break your cover! But the realization that whoever was out there knew I was home overruled my caution. If they were here to harm me, a locked door wouldn't stop them.
With a shaky breath, I gripped the
