A knock in the dark

A knock in the dark


Samantha's POV

The smell of garlic and onions filled my small apartment, the faint sizzle of oil humming under the soft voice of Josh on the phone.

“You’re still working?” I teased, my phone placed between my shoulder and ear while I stirred the sauce. “Josh, it’s 8 p.m. Normal people are eating dinner, not hacking a new vault.”

“It’s not a vault this time,” Josh said, his voice low and smug. “It’s a security system for a downtown gallery. The owner swore it was unbreakable.”

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “You and your ego. You’ll end up in jail one day, and I’m not bailing you out.”

“Babe, relax, you know I only hack legally now. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Josh laughed. “You worry too much. I'll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“That reminds me,” he said, his voice softening.

“What?”

“I was going to suggest we go on a weekend trip together, just the two of us.”

“Weekend trip? Where?”

“There’s this spot I saw online—Redstone Falls, just outside Las Vegas. The water’s like crystal at sunset. It’s supposed to be unreal.”

“Outside Vegas?” I scoffed. “You…voluntarily going somewhere with nature instead of Wi-Fi?”

“Hey, I can multitask.”

I grinned, tasting the sauce. “Alright, deal. But if you check your emails while we’re there, I’m pushing you into the water.”

“Noted. I’ll risk drowning over debugging.”

The sound of his laugh faded gradually. I reduced the stove, smiling faintly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Sam. Just two more days, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

“Two days,” I repeated softly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I was about to say more when…

BANG. BANG.

A loud knock jolted through my apartment.

My hand froze midair. Who could that be? It's past the visiting hour, and I was not even expecting anyone.

“Sam?” Josh snapped. “What was that?”

“Hold on,” I whispered, setting the phone down on the counter. My pulse jumped as another loud knock shook the door. Whoever it was, they weren’t patient.

I crossed the room quickly, wiping my hands on a towel. “Who’s there?”

There was no answer, just ragged breathing from the other side.

I hesitated, my heart pounding so hard against my chest. You could say I was so scared at that point. All through my stay in this apartment for three years now, I have never really experienced something like this. This is new.

After so much deliberation and debate inside my head, I cracked the door open…

“Camila?”

She stood there, her eyes wide open as she trembled like a leaf in a storm. Her hoodie was drenched with blood stains. What?

Her hands shook violently as she tried to steady herself against the doorframe.

“Jesus, Camila!” I opened the door wider, my stomach dropping. “Oh my God—what happened to you?”

Her lips parted to speak, but no word came out.

"What happened?" I enquired further.

Still nothing.

She darted her eyes behind, as if expecting someone to follow.

“I need to call an ambulance,” I said, rushing for my phone. “Oh my God—”

She grabbed my wrist. “Don’t,” she breathed. “It’s not my blood.”

I froze, staring at her. “What?”

She shook her head, chest heaving. “Please. Just… close the door.”

I slammed it shut, locking it twice. My heart raced as I turned back to her. “Camila, you’re shaking. You need to sit down.”

She nodded numbly. I guided her to the couch, and she sank into it, staring blankly at her hands. There were faint scratches, dried blood streaking down her arm.

“I’ll get you some water,” I said quickly, moving to the kitchen. My hands fumbled with the glass, the faucet roaring louder than usual.

When I returned, she was still shaking, staring at nothing in particular. She must really be in shock.

I handed her the glass, crouching in front of her. “Hey… look at me. You’re okay now. You’re safe, alright?”

She took the water, her fingers trembling so much I had to steady the glass for her.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was her uneven breathing—and the faint pop of oil still sizzling in the kitchen, forgotten.

Then she finally whispered, voice breaking, “Sam… she’s dead.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Who?”

Her eyes darted up, red and glassy with tears, like she’d just crawled out of a nightmare. And then she split everything… About the woman she met in the diner. The men who attacked her. The gunshots. The blood.

I just stood there, frozen, the room spinning around her voice.

When she finished, silence swallowed the air. Then her face crumpled again, tears streaming fresh down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey…” I murmured, dropping to my knees in front of her. My hands cupped her cold ones. “It’s okay. You’re safe now, Cam.”

“I—she helped me,” she gasped, her voice shaking. “And they killed her. I tried, Sam. I swear I tried—”

“Shhh,” I soothed, brushing a strand of hair off her wet cheek. “I know, I know…”

Her body trembled like she’d been running for hours.

After a few moments, I asked, quietly, “Did they see you? Did anyone notice it was you?”

She hesitated, staring at the floor. “I—I don’t think so. I wore the hoodie the whole time. Even when I fought… I pulled it low enough. They couldn’t have seen my face.”

I pouted my lips and nodded.

Before I could say more, something acrid hit my nose. Smoke.

“Oh, crap. Stay here; I'll be right back.”

I sprang up and dashed to the kitchen. Smoke clouded the room, curling from the pan like some evil spirit. I coughed, twisting the knob to kill the stove. The smoke hissed and thinned, leaving the air heavy and stinging. Thank goodness it didn't cause any further damage.

When I turned back to the living room, Camila had slept off on the couch.

Her lashes were still wet, streaks of tears glistening on her cheeks. Her hand clutched the edge of a blanket I didn’t even remember tossing over her.

I exhaled, leaning against the doorway. I just hope she’ll be fine.

She looked so small, so breakable. And yet, she was walking towards the path that could bring her doom. Why does she have to fight him? In as much as she wants justice... She should also be aware of the pros and cons that come with it.

I rubbed a hand over my face.

“She just needs to stop,” I whispered to the quiet room. “This isn’t about answers anymore—it’s about survival.”

And I really hope she was right when she said no one saw her. I really do.

Edward will not hesitate even for a second to order his men to have her head snapped off if it occurs to him that Camila… was the other woman.