Chapter 12 – The Knock
Clara’s Pov
The knock came again—soft, deliberate, almost polite. Three short taps. Then silence.
Renee stirred on the other bed, half asleep. “Clara?” she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion. “Was that…?”
I put a finger to my lips, heart thundering so loudly it drowned out every other sound. I strained to listen, but the hallway beyond the door was quiet. Too quiet.
Whoever was out there was waiting.
I stood slowly, every nerve on edge. The carpet under my bare feet felt rough, grounding me just enough to keep from losing it. Another knock followed, slightly harder this time.
“Front desk,” a man’s voice called softly. “Maintenance check.”
Renee blinked, pushing herself upright. “What?”
“Stay there,” I whispered. My voice came out as barely more than a breath.
There was no reason for maintenance to be doing rounds at two in the morning. None. I crept toward the door, careful to avoid the spots in the carpet where it creaked. Peeking through the peephole, I froze.
A man in hotel uniform stood there—a dark jacket with the chain’s logo. But the moment I focused on his face, my stomach dropped. The smile. It was too familiar.
Adrian.
I stumbled back without making a sound, hand flying to my mouth. My heart pounded so violently I worried he could hear it through the door.
He knocked again, a slow rhythm that made every hair on my arms stand up.
“Clara,” he said quietly. Not shouting, not pleading—just that calm, coaxing tone I used to find comforting. “I just want to talk.”
Renee was fully awake now, her eyes wide. “That’s him, isn’t it?” she mouthed.
I nodded.
“Call the police,” she whispered.
I grabbed my phone, fingers shaking, but there was no signal. The screen mocked me with a red “No Service” message in the corner. Panic rose through me like a scream caught in my chest.
He must have jammed it somehow—or maybe that’s what the audio message had been. Some kind of trick to disable the signal. Evelyn had warned me that whoever we were dealing with was always a step ahead.
“Clara, let me in,” Adrian said again, his voice sliding through the door like a blade disguised as velvet. “You don’t understand what’s really happening. I can explain everything.”
“Don’t,” Renee hissed. “Don’t answer him.”
But part of me wanted to. I needed to know if what he’d said in the diner had even a grain of truth. If he wasn’t the one sending the messages, then who was?
The knob jiggled. The latch rattled under the force.
Renee jumped to her feet. “He’s trying to get in!”
I pressed my weight against the door, flinching as it shook under another push. “Go to the window,” I whispered. “If this door gives, run.”
Outside, the city lights shimmered faintly through the rain. Ninth floor—too high to climb, too low to feel untouchable.
Adrian’s voice came again, sharper now, all the softness gone. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
Another shove. The chain lock groaned. I knew it wouldn’t hold long.
Then Renee darted to the phone on the nightstand—the one I’d assumed was dead—and pressed it to her ear. Her eyes widened. “It’s working!” she mouthed.
I pressed tighter against the door while she whispered furiously for help. The seconds stretched like hours. Adrian stopped pounding. No sound, no movement.
That was somehow worse.
I waited, holding my breath, counting heartbeats. One, two, three…
The silence broke with a loud crash—a window smashing open from somewhere down the hall. I flinched and turned toward the sound. Then nothing again. Just the sting of rainfall carried by cold air.
Renee dropped the phone, her hand trembling. “They said they’re sending someone,” she whispered.
I nodded, still staring at the door. “Stay quiet.”
Minutes crawled by. No sound from Adrian, no footsteps. I wanted to believe he’d left, that maybe he'd given up or realized we weren’t worth it. But then I saw something—under the small gap at the bottom of the door.
A faint flicker of red light.
He was still there. Recording.
I crouched and looked closer, barely daring to move. The glow came from a small camera lens pressed against the floor, capturing everything.
I reached out and kicked it hard. It skidded into the hall, hitting the far wall with a clatter.
Adrian’s voice came again, his tone almost amused. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Go to hell,” I muttered under my breath.
He laughed once, short and humorless. Then the sound of footsteps drifted away, fading down the hall.
Renee let out a shaky breath, collapsing onto the bed. “He’s gone?”
“I think so,” I whispered. But the words felt like lies.
We waited like that for what had to be an hour until the sound of sirens finally echoed faintly from outside. When the knock came again, loud and sharp, we both jumped.
“Police!” a voice called. “Open up!”
Renee bolted for the door, fumbling with the chain. I followed, adrenaline still burning. Two officers stood there when she swung it open, rain slicking their uniforms.
The taller one asked, “You called about an intruder?”
“Yes,” Renee said quickly. “He was right outside this room. He tried to force the door.”
They looked at each other, then one stepped into the hall, scanning each direction. “Nobody’s there now. You sure it was someone from the hotel?”
I shook my head. “It was my boyfriend. Or… I guess he was.”
“We’ll check the cameras,” the taller officer said, his tone calm but skeptical. “You’re safe for now. Just stay inside and don’t open the door again.”
They left after a few minutes, heading down the hall. The sound of their radios faded.
I locked the door again and leaned back against it, feeling the fragile weight of relief pressing down.
Renee sat on her bed, hugging her knees. “You think they’ll find him?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
She nodded, eyes fixed on nothing. “He knows everything we do. He’ll just be back.”
I didn’t argue, because she was probably right.
We stayed awake until dawn, the light creeping pale and gray through the curtains. I almost let myself relax. Almost convinced myself that maybe we had survived the night.
Then my phone vibrated again. My stomach twisted as I picked it up.
The message was only two words, but it made my blood run cold.
Check outside.
I hesitated, frozen. Against every instinct screaming in my head, I walked to the window and pulled back the curtain.
Down below in the courtyard, police cars were still parked near the entrance. Both officers from earlier were inside one—motionless, heads slumped forward.
Between them, on the windshield, written in streaks of red, was one word.
MINE.