Aria held her breath, her eyes squeezed shut behind the messy curtain of her rose-gold hair.
She stood frozen in the quiet hotel corridor, her bare feet aching against the carpet, her trembling fist still hovering in the air after knocking.
'Please be the right room,' she chanted in her head like a desperate mantra. 'Please, please, please.'
She heard the muffled thud of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. The handle turned.
The door slowly swung open.
Aria didn't move.
"Are you method-acting for a Samara reboot, Mrs. Sinclair?"
It was Damien's voice.
Aria instantly flipped her hair backward with both hands, letting out a massive, shuddering exhale.
"Oh, thank God," Aria gasped, pushing right past him and marching directly into the room.
The room was a standard, high-end executive suite, featuring a small, modern living space. Aria threw herself onto the plush grey sofa, letting her head fall back against the cushions with a tragic sigh.
