It was just after 1:00 AM when I heard the knock.
Three taps. Soft. Hesitant.
I sat up from the couch in Studio 3B, heart drumming, adrenaline instantly coursing through me. I hadn't expected her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But I opened the door anyway.
And there she was.
Ana.
Hood over her hair, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes sharp and stormy beneath the flickering hallway light. There was dirt on her boots and tension in every line of her stance.
"You said the door was open," she said.
I stepped aside without a word, motioning her in.
She moved like a shadow—quiet, controlled, as if expecting someone to jump out at her at any second. I didn't blame her.
The door shut with a quiet click. The room instantly felt smaller. Closer.
I sat on the edge of the desk while she stood near the middle of the room, arms crossed.
"I need answers," she said, eyes locked on mine. "And I think you're the only person who won't lie to me."
I tilted my head. "What makes you think that?"
"Because liars don't wait for people to come to them," she said. "They chase. You didn't."
Smart girl.
"What do you want to know?"
Her jaw tensed. "Why do you keep watching me like you know me?"
I hesitated. Then took a slow breath.
"Because I might," I said. "I think I knew your mother."
Her face went pale, then flushed with something like fury—or fear. "You don't know anything about her."
"I know her name was Lenora," I said softly. "I know she vanished. And I know who she was married to."
Ana flinched.
"You think I'm lying?" I asked gently.
"I think you're dangerous," she said. "But not like the others."
"Who are the others, Ana?"
She didn't answer that. Just shook her head.
"She used to sing," she said quietly. "Not lullabies. Old show tunes. Jazz. She said music kept the monsters away."
I smiled faintly. "She used to hum to herself backstage. Said if the lights went out, she'd still find the rhythm."
That caught her.
Her eyes shimmered, just for a second, as her walls cracked.
"You knew her."
"Yes," I said. "And I've been trying to find out what happened to her for a long time."
Ana took a step closer. "Why?"
"Because she was running from the same monster I'm facing now."
"Grayson," she said flatly.
I nodded.
Ana looked away, staring out the narrow window toward the darkened carnival grounds beyond. "He doesn't know I know," she whispered. "That he's my father."
A silence stretched between us—thick and suffocating.
"And you're not going to tell him," I said, firm.
Her gaze returned to mine, fierce. "I won't give him that power."
I stood up. "Then let's take some of it back."
She tilted her head. "How?"
"You and me," I said. "We pull the strings now."
Ana gave a small, sharp smile. "Guess the tragedy queen's ready for a new role."
I held out my hand.
She took it.
And the alliance was born.