"Shhhh... don’t make a sound."
The woman in the sleek business skirt — Karen’s manager, Eliza — pressed her finger to her lips.
Her lipstick had smudged, her once-perfect hair was loose and ssy, but her eyes were sharp with fear.
Karen’s heart thudded violently against her chest.
The room around them was dim, the curtains drawn tight.
Only the flickering light from the chaos outside gave the two won a fragile illusion of safety.
They had been trapped in the hotel room for over an hour now.
What was supposed to be a calm eting about their upcoming shows had turned into a nightmare neither could comprehend.
Karen had co here hoping to talk — to focus on work, to get her mind off Ross and the confusing feelings he had stirred inside her — but now, none of that mattered.
Outside, the world was ending.
The chaos had started so suddenly it didn’t even feel real.
One mont, they were sipping coffee and talking about song arrangents; the next, the lobby had erupted into screams.
Guests ran for their lives as staff and strangers alike turned into rabid, bloodthirsty monsters.
All it took was one bite, one drop of infected blood — and they changed.
Their eyes glazed over, their bodies twitched, and then they lunged for the nearest person like wild animals.
Karen had seen this a thousand tis before — in movies, in television shows.
But seeing it unfold in front of her eyes was different. Horrifyingly different.
"I need to call my mom and dad," Karen whispered, her voice trembling. "My sisters too—I need to make sure they’re okay."
Her shaking fingers hovered over her phone screen, tears welling up in her eyes.
She could barely breathe as the realization struck her — she might never see them again.
Eliza reached out quickly and snatched the phone from her hands.
"No! If you make a sound, they’ll hear us." Her whisper was harsh but desperate.
"Do you hear that? They’re right outside!"
Karen froze. And then she heard it — a dragging noise, like heavy feet scraping across carpet.
A low, guttural moan that seed to echo from sowhere just down the hall.
"God..." Karen whimpered, her lips trembling. "Eliza, they’re getting closer."
The older woman moved silently toward the door and pressed her ear against it.
The sound grew louder — groaning, scratching, the wet squelch of sothing being dragged.
The sll of smoke and blood hung thick in the air, seeping in through the vents.
"We’re not going out there," Eliza said firmly. "We wait until it’s quiet."
Karen sank to the floor, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
"Quiet? You think it’s ever going to be quiet again?" Her voice cracked, tears spilling freely now.
"I should’ve stayed ho... maybe my family—maybe they—"
Eliza crouched beside her, her voice softening. "Listen to , Karen. You can’t think like that. You’re strong, okay? You’ve always been strong." She placed a trembling hand on Karen’s shoulder. "We’ll get out of this. I promise."
For a mont, their eyes t — fear against determination — and it was enough to calm Karen’s sobbing, even if just barely.
Then ca another sound.
Thud.
The door shuddered. Both won froze.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Sothing — or soone — was pounding on it from the other side.
Eliza grabbed the nearest object she could find — a tal lamp — and motioned for Karen to stay back.
The pounding grew louder, harder, until the doorfra began to crack.
"Stay behind !" Eliza hissed.
Karen pressed herself against the wall, heart hamring so hard it hurt.
She could see the shadow under the door — a pair of feet shuffling, dragging.
A low, animal growl filled the room.
Then, suddenly—
Bang!
The door shuddered violently, nearly bursting open as splinters of wood flew through the air.
Karen scread, stumbling backward, her heart slamming against her ribs.
The pounding outside grew louder — sothing heavy was slamming against the door again and again, snarling and scraping like an animal possessed.
Eliza’s eyes widened in terror before a flash of instinct took over.
She knew that the tal lamp she held would be ineffective against that thing.
"Move the cabinet! Block the door—quick, help !" she hissed.
They both lunged into motion.
Adrenaline surged through their veins as they grabbed anything they could — chairs, the nightstand, even the small dresser near the bed.
Their hands slipped on the polished wood, but they didn’t stop.
The humanoid creature outside roared, slamming one last ti before the barricade finally held.
The impact rattled the cabinet, but the door didn’t give.
The sound of snarling lingered for a few tense seconds... then faded.
Heavy footsteps shuffled away, dragging slowly down the hall until silence returned.
Eliza fell against the wall, panting, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
"Oh my God... it’s gone," she whispered, voice trembling.
Karen nodded shakily, tears spilling from her eyes. "We... we actually survived that."
Without thinking, the two clung to each other in desperate relief, their bodies trembling.
The room still slled of fear — sweat, dust, and faint traces of blood from the hallway.
It was only then, in the quiet aftermath, that Karen’s mind began to clear.
And like a spark in the dark, she suddenly rembered sothing — Ross.
Ross had known.
He’d said sothing earlier that didn’t make sense at the ti — about being safe, about preparing for what was coming.
The mory hit her like ice water.
"Eliza," Karen said breathlessly, pulling away. "Get Ross’s number. Now."
Eliza blinked at her, confused. "What? Karen, what are you—"
"Just give it to !" Karen snapped, fumbling for her phone. "Please."
Sothing in Karen’s tone made Eliza comply without another word.
She searched through her contacts with shaking fingers and began dictating the number.
Karen entered it quickly and pressed the call button.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then it connected.
"Ross..." Karen gasped, barely able to form the words.
On the other end, his voice ca smooth, calm — almost too calm for the chaos that surrounded them.
"Well, hello Karen," he said, his tone laced with faint amusent. "I knew you’d call."
Karen’s lips parted, but no sound ca out.
"So," Ross continued, his voice dropping to a soft, knowing murmur, "let’s speak our terms."
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