The fourth floor was silent. Too silent.
Ava crouched behind a fallen cabinet, back against the cold wall, knees up to her chest. Her breath came thin and shallow, misting in the air. Frost clung to the walls, shimmering in dim light from half-frozen windows.
Made everything glow wrong.
Neive curled on her lap, small body warm like fire in snow. She stroked his back with gloved fingers, mechanical, needing something to keep her thoughts straight.
She'd been here too long.
Every minute felt heavier. Ice pressed from all sides, clinging to her skin, numbing her fingers. But that wasn't what scared her.
The silence scared her. The stillness. The waiting.
Somewhere below, Liam might be alive. Her friends might be alive.
Or not.
And she was stuck here, hiding, scared—trapped.
She swallowed hard.
'Can't stay here forever,' she thought, eyes flicking to the far hallway where stairs waited. Third floor might be worse. Might be crawling with frostborn or echoing with screams.
