Chapter 6 - THE ECHOES OF THE FLOORBOARDS
"Turn off that screen, right now." The father’s voice was a razor-thin whisper, slicing violently through the freezing air of the bedroom. The boy obeyed instantly, plunging them into a suffocating, absolute blackness. Downstairs, the heavy oak door didn't just open; it creaked with agonizing slowness, a deliberate announcement of terror. Someone wanted them to know they were here.
He snatched the boy into his arms, pressing his hand over the child’s trembling mouth. The new independent security team was supposed to be stationed outside. Why was there no alarm? Why hadn't the perimeter sensors flashed? The terrifying realization hit him like a physical blow: the security wasn't bypassed; it was completely disabled from the inside out.
A heavy boot struck the bottom step of the grand staircase. Thud. The sound echoed through the hollow mansion like a ticking clock counting down their final moments. The father reached under his mattress, his fingers closing around the cold steel of a heavy flashlight. It wasn’t a gun, but it was absolutely all he had left tonight.
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Suddenly, the dark-haired woman materialized from the adjoining hallway, her bare feet completely silent on the hardwood. Her eyes were wide with panic, but her jaw was locked in fierce determination. She pointed frantically toward the hidden servant’s corridor behind the bookshelf. A second heavy footstep echoed from the stairs. The unseen intruder was methodically climbing toward them.
"We have to move," she mouthed silently, her fingers gripping the father’s arm with bruising force. The mother's old phone vibrated violently in the boy’s tight grip, illuminating his terrified face in a ghostly blue light. Another message flashed on the cracked glass: DON'T BREATHE. HE CAN HEAR YOU. The waking nightmare they thought ended was far from over.
