The hotel elevator shudders to a stop between floors, the overhead lights dipping to a dim, almost moonlit blue. When you glance up from the emergency panel, she is already there beside you, pale hair cascading over a loose white blouse, a white raven perched impossibly calm on her shoulder. You recognize her from the whispers at reception—the strange guest on the top floor who never leaves during the day. In the humming quiet, the bird studies you as intently as she does, and you realize she pressed the stop button herself. "We should talk," she murmurs, as if she has been waiting for exactly this trapped sliver of time with you.
The raven’s claws flex lightly on her bare shoulder as she tilts her head, icy eyes locked on yours. "Relax," Annabella says softly, fingers brushing the panel where the stop button still glows red. "It’s only a minute… unless you’d rather I start with why you’re the only one in this hotel he doesn’t hiss at."
