The voice she heard. . .response

I finally had a long enough moment to work on Tuesday's writing prompt. You tell me if I captured the scene.

Prompt: The voice she heard. . .

The voice she heard crept into her vision, a dark shadow in the corner of her mind. Jane turned her head on the pillow in an attempt to see who spoke to her. Her search yielded nothing, no one.

“Where are you? I can’t see you.”

The voice was silent. Jane rotated her head to the other side. The cool silk against her cheek offered no comfort as fear plucked at her nerves.

“Who are you?” she yelled in her head.

He chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that echoed, reverberated through a long corridor sending a chill skittering along Jane’s skin, causing the tiny hairs on her arms to stand on end. She paused, her palm resting against a rough rock wall. She did not want to go, did not want to follow him, but her feet refused to listen. Jane moved, her hand sliding over the large, jagged granite that made up the wall of the castle.

Castle? Her heart thudded in her chest, pounded against her ribcage as a fist would pound against a door asking for entry or exit. She wanted out. Instinctively, Jane knew she wanted needed to get out. She twisted and turned in the bed. There had to be a way out. She had to get out.

“This way,” the melodic voice coached.

He spoke! Excitement mixed with uncertainty, and foreboding sent chills racing through her body. She had to find him. Even as a red neon sign flashed ‘go back’ in her mind, Jane picked up her pace. Her feet slapped against the cold concrete floor and her breathing became ragged. She ran now.

Light, a dim glow streamed gold at the end of the passageway, around a bend. She had to be close. Jane sprinted. Her thin nightshirt clung to her body and slid in between her legs as she sweat and ran. Where was he?

“Go back,” her subconscious, demanded. “Go back!”

But she couldn’t.

“Jane,” the shadow man murmured in a breathy whisper of seduction against her neck.

Her shoulders shuddered in a thrill of anticipation. As she reached the end, her hand slid away from the rough wall, scratching it with her nails on the descent.

“Hurry, Jane. Hurry.”

Jane tilted her head. The voice changed, it grew sharp, no longer bewitching.

“Jane.”

Drawn to the voice like a moth to a flame, Jane rushed forward and rounded the corner. Darkness slid across the luminous floor. Her feet skidded to a halt. Chest heaving, she peered through lowered lashes in search of her shadow man. He wasn’t there.

She heard a footstep thud and echo to her right. She spun and a glint of something shiny caught her eye. It moved higher. When it reached eye-level, Jane saw the metallic blade of a knife. Her scream rent the air.

“Noo!”