Callen had been on the edge of sleep, his body finally surrendering to the exhaustion of the day, when a sudden, loud BANG shattered the silence.
His instincts kicked in before he was even fully conscious. He was upright in an instant, muscles tight, senses sharpened.
Beside him, Nell jolted awake, a sharp inhale slipping past her lips. Her eyes darted wildly in the dimly lit room, searching for the source of the noise. "What—what was that?"
Callen didn't answer right away. He was already swinging his legs off the bed, reaching for his boots. His movements were quick, efficient—practiced from years of waking up under less-than-ideal circumstances.
Another BANG.
Nell sucked in a breath, pushing back the blanket as she scrambled out of bed. "That's not just the storm," she murmured.
Callen moved toward the window first, peeling back the curtain just enough to see out. The rain blurred everything, the parking lot empty, the distant neon glow from the gas station barely visible through the downpour.
A deep, scraping noise sounded from just outside their room.
Nell tensed. "That sounded close."
Callen's jaw tightened. He grabbed his jacket. "I'm checking it out."
Nell turned from the window, alarm flashing in her eyes. "Callen, wait—"
"I won't go far," he assured her, already moving toward the door. His hand went to his bag, fingers wrapping around his gun.
That stopped her cold.
Callen was careful, sure—but he wasn't paranoid. If he was grabbing his gun, it meant he wasn't just checking. It meant he was prepared.
Which meant he thought something was really out there.
Nell swallowed, her pulse hammering. "Be careful."
Callen flicked her a look, something reassuring in his eyes, but it didn't erase the tension in his posture. "Lock the door behind me."
Nell barely had time to nod before he slipped out. She turned the lock immediately, her fingers gripping the bolt tighter than necessary.
For a moment, only the rain and wind filled the silence.
Then—scratching.
Nell froze.
It wasn't coming from outside.
Her breath hitched. She turned slowly, scanning the dim room, her pulse spiking.
A soft knock came next—low and deliberate, against the farthest wall.
She spun toward the sound. The room was empty. Nothing had changed. But the feeling in the air had.
Another knock. Then something dragged across the floor.
Nell's stomach twisted. The noise wasn't coming from the door. It wasn't coming from the window. It was—
BANG.
This time, the sound came from right above her. The ceiling.
Her breath stuttered, her whole body locking up.
Another loud thump—closer this time, directly over the bed.
She backed up, her throat tightening, her mind racing for an explanation—but nothing made sense.
Then, silence.
Thick, suffocating silence.
The only sound was the storm outside, the rhythmic tapping of rain against the window.
Then—
"Nell?"
She nearly collapsed in relief at the sound of Callen's voice.
She fumbled with the lock and yanked the door open.
Callen stepped inside, rain dripping from his jacket, his sharp gaze instantly scanning her face. The moment he saw how shaken she was, his whole demeanor changed.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice lower now, edged with concern.
Nell swallowed hard. "I heard something. Scratching. Banging. It wasn't outside, Callen. It was in here."
Callen stilled.
His eyes flickered over the room, his posture shifting subtly—but she caught it.
It was one thing for her to be scared—she wasn't trained for this. But Callen? Callen didn't spook easy. If he was reacting like this…
"I—" She exhaled shakily. "You don't think it was just—just the storm?"
Callen's expression didn't change. He wasn't dismissing her. He wasn't brushing it off. That, more than anything, scared her.
"I'm gonna check the room again," he said calmly, but there was something in his voice—something measured, careful.
She didn't argue.
He moved with quiet precision, sweeping the room with a methodical efficiency that should have been comforting—but wasn't. He checked the closet, the bathroom, even under the bed.
Nothing.
Finally, he turned back to her. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans but didn't relax. He hesitated, then pulled a small knife from his bag and pressed it into her hand.
Nell gripped it tightly.
Callen sat down on the edge of the bed, his body still tense, still listening. His presence was steady, solid. A silent reassurance.
Nell sat beside him, her fingers curled around the knife handle.
Outside, the storm raged on.
Inside, the unease settled thick in the air.