Delia
The creak of the floorboard wasn’t what froze Delia this time.
It was the knock—sharp, heavy, deliberate. It rattled the doorframe, the sound reverberating through the apartment like a warning.
Her breath caught. Frank wasn’t supposed to be back yet.
The knock came again, harder this time. “Frank! I know you’re in there!”
The voice was male, rough-edged and furious, each word soaked in threat. Delia stiffened. She didn’t recognise it.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Whoever he was, he wasn’t someone friendly dropping by for coffee.
Another thud shook the door. “Open the damn door, or I’ll smash it in!”
The sound jolted Delia into motion. Panic surged, quick and hot, flooding her limbs. She looked around frantically—no phone nearby, no weapon, nothing. The apartment suddenly
