Holly’s palms were slick against the wooden door, her heart battering her ribs so violently she wondered if whoever was outside could hear that instead—because her voice certainly wasn’t making a sound.
Another slam rattled the hinges.
Dust sifted from the ceiling.
Lila whimpered behind her, clutching the blanket around her small frame, silver eyes wide and shining in the dim firelight.
“H-Holly…” she whispered.
“I know.” Holly barely formed the words, breath shuddering. “Just stay behind me.”
Her knees trembled, but she locked them in place. The door was old, heavier than it looked, and every impact vibrated straight through her bones. She wanted to yell Rowan’s name—wanted to scream it until her throat burned—but fear had welded her voice shut.
All she could do was brace herself a
