For one brutal heartbeat, Drew couldn't move.
The sealed door loomed in front of her—a solid wall of metal that had slammed down like a guillotine, separating her from Jax, cutting off his voice, drowning his last shout in suffocating silence.
"JAX!" she yelled, slamming both palms against the steel.
Her voice ricocheted through the narrow space she'd been thrown into—sharp, cracked, desperate.
No answer.
Nothing.
The silence was wrong.
Heavy.
Thick.
Like something was listening to her breathe.
Her chest tightened.
She hit the door again. "JAX—ANSWER ME!"
Still nothing.
Her pulse hammered so hard she tasted blood in the back of her throat. She stepped back, bracing herself to ram the door again—
Until she noticed the light.
The room she was now trapped in wasn't dark like the corridors.
It was bright.
Too bright.
A soft, almost warm light radiated from no visible source—no lamps, no openings, no cracks. The brilliance bled across the smooth floor and walls, washing everything in a pale glow that somehow made her colder.
Light wasn't supposed to feel cold.
Drew turned slowly, heart crawling up her throat.
This room was different.
No rusted walls.
No dust.
No marks.
No shadow movement.
It looked… pristine.
Like a place that shouldn't belong to the labyrinth she'd just run through.
And in the center of the room—
Drew's breath stopped.
A chair.
Just one.
Facing her.
And on the seat…
A folded piece of paper.
Her vision blurred.
Her ribs tightened.
Every instinct screamed at her not to go near it.
But dread dragged her forward anyway.
Her steps were painfully loud as she approached. The paper was clean. Crisp. Perfectly centered.
Her hands shook as she reached for it.
But before she touched it—
A whisper drifted across the room.
"Don't."
Her body snapped to attention. She stumbled backward so fast she almost fell.
The voice had come from behind the sealed door.
Jax?
"Jax?" she breathed, leaning toward the metal.
Silence.
Then—
A scrape.
Low.
Soft.
Wrong.
Like fingernails dragging along the other side.
Her heart folded inward.
"Jax?" she whispered again.
Another scrape…
But this time…
It was higher.
Above the door.
On the ceiling.
Drew staggered back from the door, pulse tearing through her chest. Whatever was out there—it wasn't him.
She turned to the paper again.
Her fingers hovered over it.
"Tears are falling," she whispered to herself, realizing only then that she was crying. "Okay… okay, Drew. Just—just breathe. Just open it."
She unfolded the note with trembling hands.
There were only two words inside.
TURN AROUND.
Her heart stopped.
The paper fluttered from her fingers.
She didn't turn at first. Couldn't. Her legs locked. Her lungs seized. Something ice–cold skittered up her spine like nails pressing into her back.
Slowly—so slowly it hurt—she turned.
And her entire world cracked.
"Jax…?" she choked out.
He was there.
Standing at the opposite end of the room.
But—
Not right.
His clothes were torn.
His face was pale—too pale.
His chest rose and fell in jerky, uneven shudders.
His pupils were blown wide like he'd seen something that shattered him.
"Drew…" he breathed.
Relief flooded her eyes—and then instantly froze.
Because Jax wasn't alone.
Behind him, just over his shoulder—
A shadow stood.
Not a figure.
Not a person.
Not anything she could describe.
It was tall—too tall.
The height of it dwarfed Jax completely.
Its shape wasn't steady.
It rippled.
Shifted.
Bled into the light as though the room itself was holding its breath.
Drawing closer.
"Jax—DON'T MOVE!" Drew cried.
He didn't seem to hear her. He took a shaky step toward her.
The shadow moved with him.
Almost like it was attached.
"No. Please—stop," Drew whispered, voice cracking.
Jax lifted a hand toward her, fingers trembling. "Drew… I'm here. I'm right here."
His voice was wrong.
It was Jax's tone… but thinner.
Hollow.
Like someone putting pressure on the edges of his words.
"Jax," she whispered. "What's behind you?"
He blinked, confused—or pretending to be. "There's nothing behind me."
His eyes didn't match his voice.
He looked terrified.
Like he knew something was there but wasn't allowed to say it.
"Jax," she whispered, "don't come closer."
He took another step.
The shadow stretched.
Drew backed up until her spine hit the sealed door.
"Please—stop," she begged.
Jax froze then, chest rising rapidly, breath broken. He looked down—as if fighting an invisible hand turning his chin—and his whisper cracked.
"Drew… run."
Her blood turned to ice.
The shadow behind him pulsated.
And the lights flickered.
Drew moved sideways before she even realized she was moving—circling along the curved wall, eyes never leaving him.
"I said RUN!" Jax suddenly screamed—
A sound ripped from the deepest part of him.
The lights blew out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Drew dropped to her knees instinctively, palms pressed flat to the floor.
"JAX!"
Her scream echoed through absolute black.
Something moved in front of her—air shifting, heavy and cold.
Then—
A grip closed around her wrist.
Warm.
Human.
"Drew—get up!" Jax hissed in her ear.
Relief hit her so hard she nearly sobbed.
She scrambled to her feet—"Jax, where—"
"Don't talk. Move."
He dragged her blindly through the darkness—
But then…
He stopped.
Dead still.
"Jax?" she whispered. "Why did you stop?"
His fingers tightened painfully around her wrist.
Too tight.
Too strong.
Human hands didn't grip like that.
"Jax?" she whispered again.
Silence.
When he spoke, his voice cracked in half.
"Drew… let go."
Her breath hitched. "What?"
"LET—GO!"
She wrenched her arm back—
And stumbled away—
And someone else caught her.
Arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind, pulling her into a human chest.
A real one.
Warm, trembling.
Jax's voice exhaled shakily by her ear.
"I'm here."
Drew froze.
If Jax was holding her…
Then who—
Just touched her wrist?
A cold breath brushed her cheek.
Right next to her face.
Drew's scream tore out of her throat—
And the lights snapped back on.
The room was empty.
No shadow.
No figure.
No second grip.
No movement.
Just her and Jax and—
Her heart stopped.
On the floor where the chair used to be—
A large black stain spread outward like spilled ink.
And from the center of it…
A handprint.
Not human.
Too long.
Too thin.
Pressed deep—as though something had climbed out of the floor.
Drew staggered backward, covering her mouth.
Jax stared at the print, jaw locked so tight a muscle jumped near his ear. "Drew… we're not safe here."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No—nowhere is safe."
The walls creaked.
A long, slow sound.
Almost like someone dragging their fingers down the inside of the room.
"Jax…" she whispered. "We need to move."
He grabbed her hand. "Door. Now."
They turned toward the sealed door—
And froze.
Because the door was no longer sealed.
It was open.
Wide.
Pitch-black behind it.
And on the floor just inside the darkness—
Something lay there.
Something small.
Drew crouched down slowly, breath shuddering.
It was a piece of torn fabric.
Her shirt.
Her shirt from earlier.
The one she had lost in the chaos.
But the piece wasn't just lying there—
It was folded.
Neatly.
Placed deliberately.
Like someone was saving it for her.
A message.
Her stomach twisted so violently she thought she might collapse.
Jax knelt beside her.
"Drew," he whispered. "Someone is playing with us."
Her hand shook as she reached toward the fabric—
But before she could touch it—
A voice whispered from the darkness beyond the door.
Close.
Too close.
"Drew…"
She jerked back.
Jax pulled her against him, stepping between her and the doorway.
"Get back," he growled.
A soft tapping sounded…
Like fingertips drumming on the floor.
Or someone crawling.
Drew's knees went weak.
A shape in the dark shifted.
Low to the ground.
Slow.
Deliberate.
"Jax…" she whispered, clutching his arm. "We need to run right now—"
The tapping stopped.
Silence.
Then—
A single phrase echoed out of the dark.
Low.
Familiar.
Wrong.
"Follow me."
Drew's blood froze.
The voice…
It was hers.
Her own voice.
Whispering from somewhere in the dark.
Calling herself.
Calling them.
Jax grabbed her wrist. "We're leaving. NOW."
They backed away, step by cautious step—
But the room behind them shuddered.
The walls twisted.
The floor rippled.
The door slammed shut—
And the lights died again.
Total.
Complete.
Black.
Something crawled across the ceiling.
And Drew realized with sickening clarity—
They weren't trapped with something.
Something was trapped in here with them.
And it had her voice.