Twenty Three

The night was dark and quiet, a stillness that usually brought me comfort. But tonight, that stillness felt different—heavier, almost suffocating. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, something lurking just beyond the shadows.

Arthur had been on edge all day, more so than usual. Even though he tried to hide it, I could see the worry in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched whenever his phone buzzed. He hadn’t told me much—only that we needed to be extra careful, that Vladimir was likely planning something. But I could tell there was more he wasn’t saying, more he was trying to protect me from.

I was sitting in the living room, pretending to read a book, but my mind was racing. Arthur was in his office, probably working late again, but I couldn’t focus on anything. My eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes, waiting for something to happen.

Then, suddenly, there was a noise—a soft, almost imperceptible sound coming from outside. My hea