Eira's pov
I woke to the sound of the wind dragging its nails across the windows. The clock beside my bed glared 3:04 a.m. in angry red digits.
The manor was quiet,too quiet. I'd lived in enough warzones, compounds, and half-fallen bunkers to know when silence meant sleep... and when it meant something else.
This was the something else.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached under the mattress for my knife. Just in case. I didn't bother turning on the lamp. Darkness was a better friend now than the illusion of comfort.
By the time I slipped on my boots and padded barefoot into the hallway, the hairs on my arms were already standing up. The corridor was empty, but I could feel the shift in the air,like someone had walked through moments before and disturbed the stillness.
Then I heard it. Faint, but clear.
The creak of the eastern side door.
