Delia froze as the cold, familiar voice sliced through the quiet night. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her hand instinctively clutched her belly tighter. She slowly turned around, eyes searching the shadows beyond the doorway.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound steady.
From the darkness emerged a tall figure cloaked in a long coat, the face partially obscured by the brim of a hat. The figure stepped forward slowly, deliberately, and unhurriedly.
“Delia,” the voice was smooth, yet laced with menace. “It’s been a while.”
The recognition hit her like a lightning strike. She knew that voice—cold, calculating, dangerous. Her stomach clenched, and she instinctively moved to shut the door, but the figure’s hand shot out, blocking her.
“O
