'Damn it.'
Kaya's eyes darted around the narrow hallway—stone walls, wooden beams, a shallow alcove barely wide enough for a child. Above, exposed rafters stretched across the ceiling.
She had maybe five seconds.
'There.'
Without hesitation, she grabbed the thick wooden beam jutting from the wall and pulled herself up in one smooth, silent motion. Her muscles coiled tight as she wedged herself between the beam and the ceiling, pressing her back flat against the cold stone. Her legs braced against the beam, her arms trembling from the strain. The position burned—her shoulders screamed, her thighs shook—but she held perfectly still, her breath shallow and controlled.
The footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
Voices drifted through the hall, casual and unbothered.
Then they were there.
