“Regra dois: nunca confie em escadas . Stairs funnel you into a killing box.” He threw the fire-brick off-screen. A distant crash. Then wet, hungry snarls.

He lowered the blade. Tapped his temple.

César ejected the USB. He looked at his front door. The neighbors had stopped screaming an hour ago. Now there was only scratching.

César double-clicked it.

“They’re not slow,” Wellington continued, pulling a bloody sock off his foot. “Forget the Romero crap. These things run. And they remember doors.”