Chapter 9 · Don't Open That Door

The blood under the door moved.

Not dripped. Moved.

It slid across the steel floor in a thin red line, shaking every time something huge hit the wall outside.

I backed into the cot hard enough to bang my knee.

“Dorian?”

Another hit.

The sound punched through the safe room door and rattled the little metal sink bolted to the wall. Something scraped down the other side. Slow. Deep. Like claws through paint.

My phone was still in my hand. No signal. Two percent battery. Great.

“Dorian,” I said louder. “Say something.”

A low growl rolled through the door.

Not an answer.

I pressed both hands over my mouth before I screamed.

The room smelled like bleach, old metal, and blood. His blood. I knew that much. The dark stuff creeping under the door was too thick, too black at the edges. It looked wrong against the silver floor.

Then his voice came through.

“Stay back.”

It barely sounded like him.

The words dragged out rough, like he had to force every one of them past his teeth.

I swallowed.