And somehow, that made it feel worse.

Mia’s bedroom was at the end of the hall—small and cozy, with soft lights and toys lined neatly on a shelf. Her blanket was half off the bed, like she’d rushed out in a panic.

I checked the closet. The curtains. The bathroom.

Nothing.

Luis shook his head. “Clear.”

He knelt beside Mia. “Sweetheart, it was probably just a noise. You’re safe. We’ll call your parents.”

Mia’s face crumpled. “You didn’t look under the bed!”

Honestly, I thought it was just a formality. But when a child tells you exactly where the fear is, you don’t stop short.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll check.”

She clutched her teddy tighter. “Please… really look.”

“I will.”

I went back into the room alone and knelt beside the bed. Something still felt off.

At first, I saw only darkness. Dust. A stray sock.

Then I heard it—a faint, controlled breath. Like someone trying not to make a sound.

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

“Oh my God,” I muttered.

Because tucked against the wall wasn’t a shadow or an intruder.

It was another little girl.

She lay curled on her side, shivering in a thin yellow sweater, her wide eyes locked onto mine.

“Luis,” I called. “Get in here.”

He stepped in, and when I lifted the bed skirt, he froze. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

The girl flinched. I softened my voice. “Hey… it’s okay. You’re safe. Can you come out?”

She pressed herself deeper into the corner. When I reached toward her, I could feel the heat before touching her.

“She’s burning up,” I said.

We carefully pulled her out. She was smaller than I expected, limp with fear and fever. Dana stepped in and stopped cold at the sight.

From the hallway, Mia gasped. “That’s the girl.”

We brought her downstairs and settled her on the couch.

“What’s your name?” I asked gently.

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