The weight lifted off the door. The stairwell went silent in a way that made your skin not fit and the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up.
Elias swallowed. "It's thinking."
"Not helpful," Lachlan muttered, but his eyes went flat and serious.
The thing moved again—up, not away. Claws on concrete, steady, confident. It hit their landing door with a test: a low, slow press, mouth to seam. The air it pulled through smelled like blood and lemon leaves and rotten meat.
The seal moaned in the kitchen and tried to climb the cabinet again. Sera moved without looking at it and planted a palm on its skull. It went still without meaning to.
"You open," she told Alexei, quiet and sharp.
Zubair cut her a look that would have stopped most men in mid-step. She didn't blink.
"We hold the door or we fight the door," she added, voice level. "Pick the ground."
