Chapter 288

Emma sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the scattered brochures before her. She'd always wanted to go to Egypt—dreamed about the pyramids, the vast desert, the ancient history. It seemed like the perfect way to escape the routine of her life. The life that now felt too small for her, the endless days of dull office work, the same conversations, the same faces. A change was needed. A big one.

She had saved for months, cutting back on everything—dinners out, clothes, random purchases. The idea of walking among the ruins, feeling the weight of history beneath her feet, seemed almost... poetic. It felt like freedom was waiting there. But maybe she was just lying to herself, trying to justify a decision she had made on impulse.

Her flight was booked. Egypt was only a few days away.

The night before she was set to depart, Emma had a dream. It was vague at first—just shadows moving, distant voices. Then, as it deepened, she saw something clearer, something darker. A narrow street, cramped and crowded with people.

The air was thick, the sounds muffled. Her body felt heavy, as though the very earth beneath her was pushing back against her. She tried to run, but her legs wouldn't move. Someone laughed. Low and cruel.

When she awoke, her pulse was quick, and she was covered in a cold sweat. She tried to shake off the feeling, but it clung to her. She couldn't quite explain it, but something about the dream... it felt too real.

The plane ride was uneventful. Emma sat beside the window, watching the clouds swirl beneath her, feeling a strange sense of detachment. The farther she flew, the more she felt like she was leaving herself behind.

The world below seemed so distant, so unimportant. Her breath caught a little as the plane descended into Cairo. It was a city that had always felt like a place of secrets to her. Now, she was about to be in the heart of it.

The heat was oppressive when she stepped off the plane. The air, thick and suffocating, made her skin stick to her clothes, the smell of dust and exhaust hitting her senses immediately. She adjusted the strap of her bag, trying to ignore the odd discomfort gnawing at her gut. But she told herself it was normal. New place. New experiences. Just nerves.

Her taxi ride from the airport was unsettling. The driver, a thin man with hollow eyes and a voice that carried a strange edge, barely spoke. He simply nodded when she gave her address, then turned his attention back to the road.

The city seemed alive with movement, but there was something in the way people's eyes flickered as they walked by that made Emma's skin crawl. She could feel them watching, like she was some strange anomaly in their world.

As the car bounced over the cracked streets, Emma noticed the alleyways, dark and narrow, twisting off in every direction. The buildings loomed over her, jagged and ancient-looking, despite the modern world surrounding them. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, something that had nothing to do with the city's foreignness. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the dream, to the shadows and the laughter.

The driver eventually stopped in front of a hotel that looked like it had seen better days. He didn't speak to her when she paid him, simply watched her as she grabbed her bag and stepped out into the street. She tried to shake off the unease, telling herself it was just nerves again, but it was hard. Something felt wrong.

The hotel lobby was empty, save for the man behind the desk. He was older, with deep lines etched into his face, eyes dark and unreadable. He greeted Emma with a nod and handed her the key to her room without a word. As she took it, his gaze lingered on her a moment too long. She smiled stiffly, but he didn't respond.

The room was dim, poorly lit by a single light bulb above the bed. The air was stagnant, the sheets stiff. She threw her bag on the bed and walked over to the window, staring out at the city.

The sounds of Cairo crept in—shouts, honking horns, the distant clatter of something falling. Yet, amidst the noise, she heard something else. A sound, faint, almost imperceptible. It was a scraping noise, like nails against wood, or maybe a door shifting on its hinges.

She shook her head. It was nothing. The nerves again.

That night, she locked the door and slid under the stiff sheets, trying to sleep. She tossed and turned, unable to shake the sensation that something was just... wrong. Her eyes kept darting to the window, and when she finally did close them, the dream came back. The alley. The laughter.

It was then that she heard the knock.

At first, she froze. A soft, deliberate knock. Like someone knew she was awake, waiting for her to answer. She lay still, barely breathing. Another knock. This time, more insistent. Her heart raced, a cold sweat coating her palms. Slowly, she got out of bed, trying to ignore the rising fear. She walked to the door, hesitated for a moment, and then peered through the peephole.

Nothing.

Her breath caught in her throat. There was no one outside.

She quickly backed away from the door, heart hammering. She didn't know what she'd expected to see—maybe some shadow moving just beyond the lens, something that didn't quite fit. But there was nothing. Only the dark, empty hallway.

Her mind raced. Was she being paranoid? But then she heard something—a muffled sound, coming from just beyond her door. It was faint, but clear. Someone was moving out there, shuffling, like they were pacing. And then, a voice. Not a whisper. Not a murmur. It was a command, sharp and low.

She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. Threatening.

She stepped back from the door, her pulse racing. She had to leave. She had to get out of here.

Her phone was on the bed. She grabbed it quickly, dialing the number for the front desk. The phone rang twice before a deep voice answered.

"Hello?"

"It's Emma. I... I think someone's outside my door."

There was a long pause. When the voice finally spoke again, it was strained. "Stay inside. Do not open the door. We will send someone."

Before Emma could respond, the line went dead.

She didn't wait. She grabbed her bag, heart pounding, and tried to force open the window. It wouldn't budge. Her hands shook. She looked back at the door, listening to the sounds outside. They had stopped. Silence.

It was then that the door burst open.

Two men, large and hulking, stormed into the room. One grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her forward with terrifying strength. The other slammed the door behind them, blocking her escape. She struggled, tried to scream, but her voice was stolen by the sudden rush of panic.

The man who held her wrist spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "You come with us now."

Emma fought back, kicking, but it was useless. She was too small, too weak. They dragged her out of the room and down the narrow hallway, ignoring her frantic struggles. Every step she took, she felt the crushing weight of helplessness bearing down on her.

They shoved her into a van parked outside the hotel. It was dark inside, empty except for the two men, their eyes cold and unfeeling. She tried to kick out again, but the man beside her pressed a sharp, heavy object against her side.

"Quiet now, or you'll regret it."

The van moved, bumping over uneven roads, until they reached a building on the outskirts of the city. The air smelled faintly of something burning, a rancid, chemical stench that made her stomach turn. She was dragged inside, her feet stumbling as she was thrown into a small, filthy room with no windows.

The door slammed shut behind her, and the lock clicked into place.

She collapsed to the floor, her body trembling uncontrollably. She was trapped.

And as she sat there in the darkness, she could hear the faintest sound—the same scraping noise from earlier, the same faint, eerie sound that had haunted her dreams.