The sound didn't belong.
Lara froze. The envelope still warm in kaven's hands. From the floorboards below, something pulsed—low, electric, vibrating like a radio signal trapped underground.
Kaven's head snapped toward the floor. "What the hell is that?"
It wasn't the heater.
It wasn't the pipes.
It was alive.
"Stay here." He moved toward the window, his steps slow, deliberate.
But Lara was already there.
Across the street, a black van sat idling without lights. It hadn't been there five minutes ago. She would've noticed.
Now it just sat.
Motionless.
Watching.
A faint red light blinked on its roof — beep… beep… beep — like a transmitter, or worse, a tracker.
She whispered, "Kaven… that's the van from the corner store. Same dent on the side. I saw it this morning."
He didn't respond. Just moved back from the window like it was something poisonous.
And then…
The hum cut off.
Total silence.
Not the calm kind — the held breath before a scream kind.
And then—
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Three knocks at the apartment door.
Perfectly spaced.
Not urgent. Not friendly.
Just… certain.
Kaven grabbed the nearest metal bar from beside the fridge. "Don't open that," he muttered.
"I wasn't going to," Lara snapped, her voice thinner than she meant it to be.
Something slid under the door.
A photo.
Kaven didn't touch it at first. Lara picked it up with trembling fingers.
Her.
Standing outside the library. Today. The time stamp on the corner read 4:12 PM — two hours ago.
She was alone in the photo… or so she thought.
But just behind her, in the car window across the street, was a reflection.
Not a face.
Just a hand.
Holding a camera.
And on the back of the photo, written in smeared black ink:
"YOU LOOKED RIGHT AT US."
Lara stumbled back. "I didn't see anyone. I swear."
Kaven didn't blink. "Someone saw you."
Just then, a noise from the wall behind them — like static… inside the drywall. A warbled distortion, as if a radio was whispering from the plaster.
It said something.
Only one word made it through.
Kaven's name.
But it wasn't a voice Lara recognized.
It sounded like her own.
And outside — the van's headlights flared to life.
But still, no driver.
---
End of Chapter 8