Something heavy thudded against the front door.

Then again—a wet, dragging sound, like meat being pulled across stone.

The door swung open on its own, creaking inward to reveal a figure sprawled across the threshold.

He was drenched. Red from head to toe, the blood still dripping in thick ropes from his hair, his torn clothes, his fingers. One sleeve hung limp and empty, pinned beneath his chest. His visible hand twitched, nails scraping against the wood floor.

From somewhere deeper in the house, footsteps approached. Calm. Measured.