My skin tingles with the remainder of the sequence of events played out just moments ago, silently struggling to control my dense breaths as my brain begins processing the conversation. The conversation I had with my supposedly dead brother. I don't even understand this- he spoke of my dad and to reach out to him but our dad left just after I was born, my mum or even Harry never speaking of him since, really. The whole thing is so confusing.

I try tracing over our conversation again.

My fingers grip the phone with white knuckles, letting everything sink in with shocking waves of settlement. The hows of the entirety of this situation is mind boggling, and I wonder over and over again what I am most worried about.

The fact that my brother is alive. That my dad is (or was) in contact with him. Or that 'they' are coming for us, me now in particular. Then, of course, there is the phone number Harry told me to call to get to our father... 2567.

I slide off my now drenched in sweat blanket, slowly manoeuvre out of my bed so my toes reach cold floors. I open my apartment window, letting cool air to sweep through my stuffy room while I pace back and forth in deep thought. Should I call the number? Text? I did promise Harry... oh god I already miss him. What had happened to cause him to end the call so abruptly? I curse softly under my breath, I need to stop wondering questions I don't have the answers to.

I hold my phone up, clicking the home button a few times to have the dial screen in front of my eyes. Just 2567....2567. My fingers feel heavy with anticipation, dragging across the numbers before I'm left staring at the call screen. It's ringing. Shit, it's ringing.

It picks up near the end ring, a cold bitter voice snaps through the speaker making my spine go rigid automatically, "Who on earth is this?"

My mouth opens a few times like a fish in water, I suddenly have gone blank. What did Harry mention? 047 sent me?

"Uh- hi, um, I'm Miranda Blair, um- 047 sent me... he said to call you and ask my dad to help me?"

I didn't mean for the response to come out as a question, but even I'm unsure of what I'm talking about. There is a silence that follows, when suddenly I hear the familiar click of my front door closing down the hall, that's not on the call. Wait.

"Was that you front door?" They ask.

"Yes... but I live alone." My voice seems muffled as fear races through my veins at uncontrolled rates.

The voice replies rushed and exasperated, panic settling into the tone. "Shit, Miranda jump out of a window now, do something, get out of there. I'm sending some people in now- just hold on-"

The floorboards creak down in the hallway.