Not Looking at Her

Mia stepped into the hallway, eyes locked on the nursery door. Inside, the monitor showed Nimbus still perched along the crib rail, unmoving but seeming tensed. He wasn’t watching the child; he was watching the door, as if something on the other side didn’t belong.

Jake followed, holding the flashlight, not sure what they were supposed to be looking for. Then they heard it—a faint scratch from the vent just above the nursery ceiling. Then another. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough. They hadn’t heard that before. Mia turned to Jake. “He’s not here for her,” she whispered. “He’s been guarding her.”