We heard the distinct sound of leather shoes walking slowly across the floor above.

A floorboard creaked directly over the staircase entrance.

“Vivian?” Harrison’s voice called out, muffled by the thick wooden ceiling.

“I know you are still in the house.”

“The injunction only covers the medical transport, Vivian,” he continued, his footsteps moving closer to the door.

“It does not stop me from finding you.”

Matteo reached out in the dark and gripped my arm, guiding me backward toward the far corner of the pantry.

My foot brushed against a loose copper tin, making a soft clinking sound.

The footsteps above stopped.

The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the steady dripping of rain outside.

Then, we heard the door at the top of the stairs slowly creak open.

The hinge of the door groaned above us.

A sliver of pale yellow light cut through the blackness of the cellar stairs.

Matteo pulled me behind a row of wooden crates smelling of dry rot and old potatoes.

“Vivian?” Harrison’s voice was closer now, echoing off the stone walls.