The safehouse walls groaned as if they were breathing. Shadows stretched unnaturally, crawling across the cracked plaster. The steady rhythm of the knocks had ended, replaced by silence so sharp it felt like a blade pressing against each of their throats.
Then came the whisper.
"Lin. We've been waiting."
It seeped through the seams of the door, slipping beneath the cracks in the floorboards, sliding into their ears as though the walls themselves had learned to speak. Lin staggered back a step, his pulse hammering against his ribs. The tether inside him pulsed in recognition, vibrating with an almost hungry resonance.
Keller raised his pistol, his knuckles white against the grip. "That's the same voice from the street. Don't tell me it tracked us here."
