Jane sat on the freezing wooden floor, knees drawn to her chest, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The moonlight spilled through the cracked window in jagged streaks, stretching long across the room like grasping fingers. Shadows gathered in the corners, thick and unmoving, watching. The air was heavy, pressing against her lungs, thick with silence.

This can't be happening.

Her hands trembled as she gripped her arms, nails digging into her flesh. The candle beside her flickered violently, its weak glow struggling against the consuming dark. She didn't know how, she didn't know why - but they had found her.

Then - the knock.

Not just at the door. Everywhere.

A deep, slow pounding, rolling through the corridor like distant thunder. One door. Then another. Then all of them. The walls shuddered, dust trickling from the ceiling, the floor creaking under unseen weight. The knocking grew louder, closer, relentless. The candle sputtered, the air shifting, as if something moved just beyond sight.

Jane's pulse slammed against her ribs. She pushed herself deeper into the corner. She had to hide.

Because if he found her?

She wouldn't escape again.