The storm had finally faded, but the silence it left behind felt worse — like a hand pressing over Ann's mouth in the dark, daring her to breathe too loud.
She lay half-awake, the silk sheets twisted around her bare legs. Beside her, Damian's cold hand rested on her hip — heavy, claiming, even in sleep.
But she knew better than to believe he was fully asleep.
Something had changed since she opened that door. The shadows that used to wait outside now curled along the edges of the room, drifting in and out of the faint glow of the night lamp. They never touched her. They couldn't.
Not while he was here.
But tonight — for the first time — Ann wondered if they were waiting for him too.
She flinched when the soft knock came.
Once.
Twice.
A pause. Then three quick taps, like a child's game. Knock knock knock.
Her breath caught in her throat. She felt Damian's fingers tighten against her skin — just a twitch, but enough to remind her he knew. He always knew.
"Don't move," his voice rasped, so close she realized his lips were at her ear. She hadn't even heard him shift closer. His breath was cold, but his words burned.
"Stay here. I'll handle it."
He slipped from the bed like a shadow himself, his pale back barely a shape in the dim light. Ann's heartbeat slammed against her ribs as he crossed the room, barefoot, silent, a phantom wrapped in expensive silk and something older than his beautiful face.
The knock came again — louder this time, like fists pounding instead of fingertips.
Knock knock knock.
She wanted to call out — to beg him to come back to bed, to forget the door, to leave it closed. But her voice failed her when the lights flickered. The shadows in the corners stretched longer, reaching for Damian's back like they wanted to pull him through the walls.
He turned his head slightly, enough for her to see the gleam of his eyes in the dark — cold, silver, inhuman.
"Stay. Ann."
Her name on his tongue was a promise and a threat.
He touched the door handle. For a heartbeat, she swore she saw something press back — like another hand waited on the other side, ready to push through.
"Damian…" she whispered. But it was too late.
The door swung open.
A gust of freezing air slammed into the room, snuffing out the lamp. The shadows poured inside — darker than any night, crawling over the walls, the floor, the ceiling, leaving frost where they passed.
In the chaos, she saw him — standing in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame as the storm he'd shut out came screaming back to claim him.
And in the flicker of the lightning, Ann saw it — a shape that wasn't a man, standing in the hall, smiling back at her with her own face.
The thing spoke — her voice, twisted, too soft to be real: "Ann… come with me."
Damian turned just enough for her to see the snarl curl his lips. His voice was pure ice as he looked back at her — and in that moment, Ann couldn't tell if she was more afraid of the thing in the hall… or the man who'd dragged it here with his secrets and his love.
The shadows lunged — and the door slammed shut so hard the windows rattled.
Ann didn't know if she screamed — all she knew was Damian was suddenly there again, cold hands cupping her face, his forehead pressed to hers as the dark hissed at the edges of the room like a caged beast.
"Stay with me," he whispered, his breath harsh, his mouth tasting of thunder when he kissed her hard enough to steal the fear from her lips.
"Stay. Or I'll tear the world apart until you do."