Page 260 of The Devil's Thorn
I knocked again—this time with the side of my fist. “It’s me. Open the door.”
Still silence. Heat crept up my spine. I pounded again, harder now, my voice sharper, more frantic. “Anna—open the door. Please.”
No response. I pressed my ear to the wood. Nothing.
No movement. No light leaking through the gap beneath. Just the dead weight of someone pretending they weren’t home—or someonetoo scaredto answer.
I stepped back and stared at the door, my chest tight with something I didn’t want to name yet.
Because if Anna wasn’t opening the door… Thensomethingwas terribly, horribly wrong.
I didn’t stop. Even when my hand started to ache, even when my voice cracked, I kept knocking. Pounding. Demanding. Begging.
“Anna, open the door. Please.”
I said it again. And again. My knuckles hit the wood so many times I stopped feeling them. It had been over twenty minutes. I was seconds away from breaking down the door myself—or collapsing against it—when I heard it.
Click.
My breath caught. The lock turned once. Then again.
And the door creaked open, just barely—an inch, maybe two. Just enough for a sliver of light to escape through the frame. Just enough for me to see the outline of her eye behind the gap.
“Anna?” My voice cracked, breathless. “What the hell is going on?”
But she cut me off—fast, like every second she spoke was borrowed time. “You shouldn’t be here. I—I can’t see you.” Her voice trembled. “They threatened to kill me if I evengot closeto you.”
I froze.
The words sank in like ice.Threatened?What the hell was she talking about?
I stepped forward instinctively, trying to push the door wider, but she pressed back against it. “What are you talking about?” I demanded. “Who threatened you? What’s going on? Why have you been ignoring me?—”
“I found something, Isa.” Her voice was clipped, rushed, barely audible over the hammering in my chest. “I found something… about the people you trust. About the one you let in.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
But she didn’t answer. Didn’t elaborate. Didn’t explain. She just extended her hand through the gap in the door—trembling fingers clutching something small and black.
A USB.
“Take it,” she said quietly. “Watch it. And then… you’ll understand.”
My hand closed around it slowly, like I was picking up a live grenade. It felt small. Weightless. But something in her voice made it feel heavier than anything I’d ever held.
“Anna, what’sonthis?” I whispered. “Please—talk to me.”
But she didn’t.
The door slammed shut with a force that stole the air from my lungs. The locks clicked again. One. Two. Three.
“Anna!” I shouted, slamming my hand against the wood. “Open the door! Talk to me! What did you find?”
No answer.
“You owe me more than this! Youraisedme—don’t shut me out now!”
But the silence on the other side was complete. I hit the door again. And again. Until my palm stung and my eyes burned and I felt like something inside me was coming loose, ripping at the seams.
