Keys clacked on the other end. Questions followed. He answered what he could—but his eyes never left the door.
The footsteps stopped right outside.
Camila clutched his coat tighter. Her breathing was shallow.
“Grandpa… he said if I talked… you’d get hurt too…”
Ernest didn’t ask who “he” was.
He already knew.
A soft knock.
Not aggressive.
Almost polite.
“Dad?” Jason’s voice came through the door, calm… controlled. “Are you in there? Camila?”
Her name didn’t sound like love.
It sounded like ownership.
Ernest covered the phone’s receiver, holding his breath. Camila squeezed her eyes shut.
“Don’t let him take me back…” she whispered, barely audible.
The operator stayed silent now—listening.
The doorknob moved slightly.
Not opening.
Just enough to remind them…
There was no doubt on the other side.
Only patience.
Ernest scanned the room—no exit. The window was sealed. The hallway behind them led straight back to Jason.
A trap.
Camila opened her eyes again—but she wasn’t looking at him anymore.
She was staring at the door.
Like she was counting down.
The knob turned further.
Jason’s voice dropped lower.
“Dad… don’t make this difficult.”
And then—
The phone line shifted.
A strange click.