The road ahead stretched in golds and grays, the sun already sliding behind a hill as Zyran drove quietly. Mila sat beside him, wrapped in the jacket he'd draped around her shoulders earlier. Her hands were buried in the sleeves, her gaze lost somewhere beyond the trees rushing past the windows. She hadn't said much since they left the hotel.
Stephanie's screams still replayed in her ears.
"I didn't do anything!"
But Mila couldn't stop thinking of another voice. Weaker. Broken. Bloody.
"Mila… help me."
Her chest clenched again. If only she had stopped doubting for a minute... a second even.
"I heard her," Mila finally whispered, her voice almost drowned by the hum of the engine.
Zyran turned slightly, eyes glancing from the road to her profile. "Heard who?"
"Scarlett. That night. She was knocking. She called my name," Mila swallowed, her throat tight. "I was angry. I didn't open the door. I thought she was trying to guilt me again."
