Esme unsheathed her knife from her back and sneaked into the apartment. Each step she took was slow and quiet, her gaze sweeping across the room, her hand clenching on the dagger ready. Her heart was beating out of her chest, but Esme ignored the rising noise and focused on her surroundings. The apartment was dark, but she could still see the empty space before her.
She stopped and listened carefully for a heartbeat, breathing or light footsteps, but there were none. All that was left in the room was a faint scent that she recognised. Esme smirked; they covered their smell with lavender, a trick only she and one other used to do when tracking someone. But it could be a copycat, so she would not jump to conclusions until she saw them in person.