The heavy glass door clicked open, and we slipped into the warm, dimly lit lobby.

The elevator was out of service, a yellow sign hanging over the metal doors.

“We’ll take the stairs,” Liam whispered.

Chloe’s apartment was on the third floor.

Every footstep on the concrete stairs seemed to echo through the empty stairwell.

When we reached the third-floor landing, the hallway was quiet, smelling faintly of old carpet and cooking spices.

We walked down the corridor toward unit 304.

The brass numbers on the door were slightly crooked.

I reached out to insert the key into the lock, but before the metal could touch the keyhole, I stopped.

The door was already unlatched.

A sliver of yellow light spilled from the crack, cutting across the dark hallway carpet.

Liam immediately stepped in front of me, his hand moving to my waist to push me back.

From inside the apartment, a soft, scraping sound echoed.

Liam nudged the door with his fingertips.

The wood groaned softly as it swung inward.

I held my breath, my back pressed against the cold drywall of the hallway.