The lock clicked.
The relief almost made my knees buckle.
I wrenched the door open and looked back.
The parking lot stretched out behind me, dark and open.
“Sloane!” I shouted, my voice breaking against the night. “Come on!”
She raced toward me, face pale, hair loose and wild around her shoulders. Her breath came in sharp, panicked bursts, eyes wide and locked on the door.
Behind her—
The woman.
Or what remained of her.
Her leg appeared gone below the knee, torn away fully. Blood soaked the pavement behind her, a dark, glistening trail marking her path.
And still she moved.
Dragging herself forward with her hands, fingers clawing at the ground.
Her mouth hung open, releasing a sound.
Low.
Animal.
Ungodly.
My stomach twisted violently.
“Sloane!”
She sprinted the last few feet, slipping past me and into the building, her shoulder hitting mine as she crossed the threshold.
I stepped inside immediately and slammed the door shut with everything I had.
The heavy metal rang with the impact, loud and final, echoing down the dark corridor ahead of us.
I grabbed the handle and shoved the manual lock into place. My hands moved fast, automatically: top latch, bottom latch, deadbolt.
Something hit the door.
Not hard.
A brushing contact.
A dragging thud from the other side.
I froze, hand still wrapped around the lock.
The sound came again.
Scrape.
Thud.