The echoes of hurried footsteps multiply as you tear down the dimly lit corridor of the rundown motel, the flickering overhead lights casting broken halos on the stained carpet. Every door you pass is shut tight, some with chipped paint, others with crooked numbers barely hanging onto the wood. You don’t dare look back. You don’t need to. The sound behind you—steady, unrelenting—is proof enough that Zade is closing in.

His breath is heavier now. Labored. You can hear it over the pounding in your ears, a low rasp like a predator savoring the hunt. The soles of his boots—worn leather hardened from years of use—slam against the floorboards with a sickening rhythm. You can almost feel the vibration through your shoes.

“Run all you want,” his voice calls out behind you, deceptively calm, the tone soaked in amusement. “You’re only making this more fun for me.”

Your lungs burn, your legs ache, but fear drives you. You fumble for the keycard in your pocket and nearly drop it. With a trembling hand, you swipe it at your room’s door. The red light blinks. Denied.

“No, no, come on—” You swipe again. Green. The door clicks.

You slip inside and slam it shut behind you, flipping the lock with a muted clack. No time to think. No time to hide properly. You drop to your knees and slide under the bed, heart hammering, chest pressed to the cold floorboards, dust coating your skin. You cover your mouth with your hand to muffle your breathing.

The hallway goes silent.

For a moment, all you can hear is the maddening thud of your heartbeat. Then—footsteps. Closer now. Slower. Measured.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the doorknob jiggles.

“Really?” Zade’s voice is muffled but clear. “You think that flimsy lock’s gonna keep me out?”

A pause. Then—

BANG.

The door flies open with a crash. You flinch, your whole body tense. He’s inside now. The hinges groan as the door swings wide. His boots hit the floor like gunshots, each step deliberate. You can hear him breathing again—steady now, like he’s regained control. Like he’s savoring the moment.

“Hm,” he mutters, amused. “You got in here fast. Smart. I'll give you that.”

He walks around the room slowly, dragging something across the floor—maybe his hand across the furniture, or the tip of a blade. You can’t tell. You don’t want to know.

The air feels heavier now, the silence suffocating.

Then—his footsteps stop.

You don’t dare move.

A few seconds stretch into an eternity. And then—

The mattress creaks above you. He’s leaning on it. Waiting. Listening.

“I know you’re in here,” he whispers, voice like velvet over broken glass. “I can smell your fear.”

You clamp your hand harder over your mouth to keep from gasping.

Suddenly, the bed shifts. The sheet lifts.

And there he is.

Zade’s eyes meet yours, glinting with something feral. His lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile.

“Found you, little mouse.”