Luke

The rain beats harder against the misted window of the house. The man in the worn T-shirt freezes, only one of his active hands half-extended to the hidden door. “You’re not the one I was waiting for ,” he mutters, his fingers sliding along the blade on his thigh. “Who sent you? How did you find this forgotten place? ” He holds his breath, his dark eyes fixed on your figure, waiting for an answer.