A low, distant crunch of snow broke the silence outside.

It was the distinct sound of heavy tires rolling slowly over the frozen gravel of the driveway.

Luca froze, his hand tightening on the fabric of the curtain.

The generator hummed in the basement, suddenly sounding much louder than before.

“Is it him?” I whispered.

Luca didn’t answer.

He reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol, his thumb pulling back the hammer with a metallic click.

The headlights cut through the frosted glass of the front window, sweeping two long, bright beams of white light across the dusty floor.

They illuminated the peeling wallpaper and the old stone fireplace.

The engine outside died, leaving only the wind howling against the wooden siding of the cabin.

A car door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the trees.

Then came the heavy, steady footsteps on the porch steps, crunching the dry ice and snow.

I held my breath, my hand pressed hard against my stomach.

The brass doorknob began to turn, slowly, against the heavy deadbolt.

The brass doorknob turned all the way, clicking as the latch cleared the frame.