The knock on the door seemed louder now, though Sarah knew it hadn't changed. The rhythm of her own heartbeat had simply amplified everything around her—every breath, every creak, every drop of rain outside. She stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, the knife still clutched tightly in her trembling hand. The soft, almost polite voice beyond the door echoed in her mind.
"I'm here to help."
"I know who's watching you."
But that only made Sarah more cautious. No one could be trusted. Not now. Not after the days of eerie silence, the suffocating weight of invisible eyes tracking their every move.
Whoever stood outside that door, they were part of something bigger—something Sarah was only beginning to comprehend. And yet… there was a calmness in the voice, a certainty that chipped away at her paranoia.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder. Helena was still asleep, her small form curled up on the couch, unaware of the danger lurking just outside. She was so peaceful, so vulnerable, and for a moment, Sarah felt the weight of her responsibility bear down on her with full force. She couldn't afford to make a mistake. Not now. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart.
Her fingers tightened around the knife as she took a deep breath, steadying herself. She would hear this stranger out, but she wasn't about to trust them. Not yet.
"Who are you?" Sarah called out, her voice low but clear. She moved cautiously toward the door, careful to stay out of direct view of the peephole.
The response came quickly, as though the woman had been expecting the question. "My name is Marianne. I'm… an associate of the Lord."
The mention of that name made Sarah's heart skip a beat. She had heard whispers of the Lord, rumors of a man who ruled an empire of shadows, whose power stretched across the world like an invisible hand. But those were just stories, myths passed around by people who dealt in secrets and fear. To hear someone mention him now, here, outside her door—it sent a chill down her spine.
"Why should I believe you?" Sarah demanded, her voice sharper now. She took a small step closer to the door, her body coiled with tension.
There was a pause on the other side, as if Marianne were considering her response carefully. "Because," she said finally, "if I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."
The words hung in the air, cold and undeniable. Sarah swallowed hard. There was no bravado in the woman's tone, no threat—just a simple, chilling truth. Whoever this Marianne was, she wasn't bluffing.
Sarah glanced at the knife in her hand. It suddenly felt inadequate, almost laughable. What chance did she have against someone who could slip past all the surveillance and get to her without being seen? Whoever Marianne was, she wasn't alone. There had to be others, waiting in the shadows, watching.
But why hadn't they made their move? Why hadn't they just burst in and taken what they wanted?
"Then why are you here?" Sarah asked, her voice quieter now, more controlled. "What do you want?"
"I told you," Marianne replied calmly. "I'm here to help. The people watching you, the ones who've marked you and your sister—they won't stop until you're dead. But I can get you out of here. I can keep you safe."
Sarah's stomach twisted. She had suspected they were in danger, but to hear it confirmed like this—it made everything real in a way she hadn't been prepared for. She glanced back at Helena again. Her sister had no idea how close they were to the edge.
"How do I know I can trust you?" Sarah's voice was barely more than a whisper now.
"You don't," Marianne answered. "But right now, I'm your only option."
Another knock, softer this time, almost reassuring. "I'm coming in, Sarah. Put down the knife."
Before Sarah could react, the lock clicked, and the door began to open. Her heart lurched into her throat as the door swung inward, revealing a figure draped in a long, dark coat, water dripping from its hem onto the floor. Marianne stepped inside, her movements slow and deliberate, as though she were giving Sarah time to process what was happening.
Sarah's breath caught as she took in the woman standing before her. Marianne was stunningly beautiful, but in a way that seemed unnatural, almost dangerous. Her sharp features were framed by dark, damp hair that clung to her neck and shoulders. Her eyes—strikingly cold and blue—seemed to pierce straight through Sarah, assessing her with a calculating precision that was unnerving.
But what unsettled Sarah most was the air of confidence that radiated off Marianne. She wasn't a soldier or a thug—she was something else, something far more dangerous. There was a controlled power in her presence, a calm assurance that made it clear she wasn't someone to be trifled with.
Marianne looked directly at the knife in Sarah's hand. "You won't need that."
Sarah didn't move, her muscles tense, the knife still gripped tightly. She wasn't ready to let her guard down.
Marianne's gaze softened slightly, though the intensity never left her eyes. "I know this is hard. You don't know me. You don't know who's after you. But trust me when I say this: if you don't leave with me now, you and your sister will be dead by morning."
Sarah's throat tightened. "Who's after us?" she demanded. "What do they want?"
Marianne hesitated, glancing briefly at Helena before turning her attention back to Sarah. "There are people—powerful people—who've decided that you and Helena are a threat. I don't know why. I'm not privy to the reasons, but what I do know is that the order has been given. They won't stop. Not until both of you are gone."
Sarah's pulse raced. A threat? What could she and Helena possibly have done to warrant this kind of attention? They were nobody—two sisters trying to survive in a world that barely noticed them. Yet here they were, being hunted by forces they didn't even understand.
Marianne took a step closer, her voice lowering. "The Lord has taken an interest in you, Sarah. He's the only reason you're still alive right now. His protection is the only thing standing between you and them."
Sarah shook her head, her mind racing. "But why? Why us?"
Marianne's expression tightened, and for the first time, a flicker of something like uncertainty crossed her face. "That's not for me to say."
Sarah's grip on the knife loosened slightly, but she didn't let go. "So what now? We just go with you? Trust that this Lord will protect us?"
Marianne gave a small nod. "It's your only chance. If you stay here, you'll die. If you come with me, you'll have a chance to survive. But you need to decide now. We don't have much time."
Sarah glanced back at Helena, her mind whirling. Every instinct told her to run, to get as far away from this as possible. But deep down, she knew that wasn't an option. They were trapped, surrounded by forces far beyond their comprehension.
Helena stirred slightly in her sleep, and Sarah felt the weight of her responsibility press down on her even harder. She couldn't afford to make the wrong decision. Helena's life depended on it.
Finally, Sarah lowered the knife, though she didn't let go completely. "Alright," she said, her voice trembling. "We'll go with you."
Marianne's eyes flickered with satisfaction, though her expression remained composed. "Good choice." She glanced at Helena, then back at Sarah. "Wake her. We need to move quickly."
Sarah crossed the room to her sister, her hands shaking slightly as she knelt beside the couch. She placed a hand gently on Helena's shoulder and whispered, "Helena… wake up. We have to go."
Helena stirred, blinking groggily as she looked up at Sarah. "Wha—what's going on?"
"I'll explain later," Sarah said softly. "But we need to leave. Now."
Helena sat up slowly, her confusion evident as she glanced from Sarah to the stranger standing in their doorway. "Who's that?"
Sarah hesitated, unsure of how to explain. "She's here to help. We don't have much time. Just trust me, okay?"
Helena frowned but nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes as she stood up. "Okay…"
Sarah gathered a few essentials—a jacket, her phone, a few documents—while Marianne waited by the door, her eyes scanning the hallway outside for any signs of danger. The rain had intensified, the steady rhythm of it pounding against the windows like a warning.
Finally, with Helena by her side and a small bag in her hand, Sarah moved toward the door. Her heart pounded as she glanced back at the apartment—the only home they had left. She knew they might never return.
Marianne stepped aside, her eyes gleaming with silent authority as she gestured for them to follow her into the night. "Stay close. And don't make a sound."
Sarah nodded, her grip on Helena's hand tightening as they stepped out into the hallway. The air outside was cold, the rain seeping into their clothes almost immediately. Marianne led the way, her movements smooth and precise as she guided them down the stairs and out of the building.
The street was eerily quiet, the rain drowning out all other sounds. There were no cars, no pedestrians—just the steady, oppressive downpour.
As they reached the end of the block, Marianne paused, her eyes scanning the street ahead. Then, without warning, she turned to Sarah, her voice low and urgent. "We're not alone."
Sarah's blood ran cold. She turned her head slightly, following Marianne's gaze to the far end of the street. A dark figure stood there, barely visible in the rain, watching.