The knock reverberated through the small cabin, each tap echoing louder in Miel's chest. Jasmine's fingers gripped her arm tightly, both of them paralyzed by the implications of that sound. Miel could feel her heart pounding in her throat, the weight of the gun suddenly heavier in her hand. Maxwell let out a low growl, sensing the unease in the air, his eyes fixed on the door.
Nina emerged from the back room, her eyes sharp, taking in the tension in a glance. "Stay back," she whispered, gesturing for Miel and Jasmine to move out of the line of sight. She crossed the room silently, peeking through one of the cracks between the boards on the window.
A long moment passed. Miel held her breath, her hand tight on the grip of the gun as she waited. She was ready to defend them if it came to that. Nina's jaw tightened, her posture going rigid. Slowly, she glanced back at them. "It's just one person," she whispered, her voice tight with apprehension.
Miel didn't relax. "Who is it?"
Nina shook her head. "No idea. But they don't look like police." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "They don't look like they're here by accident either."
Jasmine's fingers dug into Miel's arm, her whispered words full of fear. "We can't let anyone in. They could be scouting for the cops."
Before Miel could respond, the knock came again—this time louder, more insistent. Whoever was outside wasn't leaving.
Nina motioned for them to stay hidden and moved quietly to the door. She checked the lock before opening it just a crack, the wooden door groaning under her movement. The cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of wet leaves and something darker, something foreboding.
"Who are you?" Nina's voice was sharp, authoritative. "What do you want?"
There was a pause. Then a voice—gravelly, low, and edged with impatience—responded. "Just looking for shelter. I don't mean any harm."
Miel couldn't see the stranger, but she heard something in the tone that made her stomach churn. A man's voice. She couldn't make out if it was laced with desperation or deceit. Her eyes flicked to Nina, searching for some sign of what she was thinking.
"We're full," Nina responded curtly. "There's nothing for you here."
A beat of silence, then the man spoke again, softer this time. "Listen, I've been walking for miles. I'm not looking for trouble. Just a place to rest for the night."
Miel could feel Jasmine trembling beside her. This was bad. Letting someone in, especially a stranger, was dangerous. It could expose them, could unravel everything they'd worked so hard to protect. But turning him away could draw even more suspicion.
Nina's eyes flashed back to Miel and Jasmine, the unspoken question hanging in the air: What do we do?
Miel hesitated, her mind racing through the possible outcomes. If they turned him away, he might leave and come back with reinforcements—or worse, he could be working for someone. But if they let him in, there was no telling what kind of threat he could pose.
Jasmine leaned in closer, her voice barely audible. "Miel, we can't take this risk. We can't trust anyone."
Miel nodded slowly, agreeing, but something tugged at her gut. If this man was truly desperate, sending him away could be a mistake they couldn't afford.
Nina narrowed her eyes at the stranger. "There's a motel ten miles down the road. You can make it if you hurry."
The man chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "I'm not looking for a bed with sheets. Just shelter from the cold. But I'll take your word on the motel."
For a second, it seemed like he would leave. Nina kept the door open a crack, watching him, as did Miel and Jasmine from the shadows. But the man didn't step away. Instead, his voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "But if you're lying... I'll be back to collect."
Nina's grip tightened on the edge of the door. "Go now."
Another beat of silence. Then, Miel heard the crunch of footsteps moving away. They waited in tense stillness, listening for any sign that he had doubled back. When the footsteps faded entirely, Nina exhaled and closed the door quietly, her forehead creasing with concern.
"I don't like this," Nina muttered, her voice low as she turned to Miel and Jasmine. "That man's not just passing through. He's either scoping out places for the cops or he's on the run, like us."
Miel set the gun down on the table, her muscles aching from the tension. "We need to get out of here."
"We'll leave at first light," Nina agreed. "I don't trust that he's gone for good."
---
Morning came too slowly, the hours dragging by in a haze of sleeplessness. Miel and Jasmine huddled together on the old couch, their eyes half-closed but never fully asleep. Every creak, every rustle of wind against the cabin's walls kept them on edge.
By the time the first pale light of dawn crept through the cracks in the wood, Miel was already on her feet, packing the essentials—cash, the few belongings they had, and, of course, Maxwell. Nina was already by the door, scanning the outside with wary eyes. The world was still, too still.
As they moved quietly outside, the forest seemed to hold its breath. The car was parked behind the cabin, hidden by the dense foliage, but something felt wrong. Miel's stomach churned again, the same unease from the night before gnawing at her insides.
Jasmine climbed into the passenger seat, pulling Maxwell up beside her. Nina started the engine, the sound shattering the early morning silence. But just as they were about to pull away, a shadow moved near the tree line.
"Wait!" Miel hissed, her hand shooting up. She squinted through the haze of the early morning light.
A figure emerged, walking slowly toward them, and Miel's blood ran cold. It was the man from last night.
Nina's hand hovered over the gear shift, her eyes darting between Miel and the approaching figure. "What do we do?"
Miel swallowed hard, her mind racing. They could drive off, leave him in the dust—but what if he followed? What if he had backup nearby, just waiting for them to make the wrong move?
The man's slow, deliberate steps brought him closer, his face now visible in the soft glow of dawn. He stopped just a few feet away from the car, his hands held up in mock surrender.
"I told you I'd be back."