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The living room was bathed in a pale light, rain pounding violently against the windows—its sound suddenly, strangely familiar. A shiver ran through me, a warning from nowhere, even before I saw him.
Killian was there.
Too close.
Way too close.
I hadn't heard his footsteps. I hadn't even sensed his arrival… not until now. From this distance, I could feel his breath brush against my cheek—warm and steady—while my heart hammered as if it were about to burst.
"I… I asked you what you're looking for," I whispered, as if I hadn't heard his first answer.
He smiled. Slowly. A smile disturbingly calm—inhuman in its stillness.
Then, in a sudden yet perfectly controlled motion, he grabbed my left wrist. His hand was cold, but the heat that instantly spread beneath my skin was the opposite—sharp, burning, almost alive. My breath caught.
His eyes shifted to emerald green.
A violent glint flashed through them—almost blinding.
Something pushed into me, like an invisible pressure rummaging through my mind. Images burst forth, brutal and disjointed: ruins, shifting shadows, blinding light, a silhouette reaching out, a voice that wasn't mine.
The window cracked behind us with a sharp snap. Several glasses exploded in the sink, shards scattering across the floor. A dull shockwave rippled through the air, tearing through me—then pain surged up my arm like fire beneath my skin.
A scream tore from my throat—raw, involuntary.
Upstairs, a door slammed.
My mother had heard.
Killian stepped back abruptly. That strange glow still burned in his eyes. He looked at his hand—a red mark identical to the one on my wrist—but he didn't seem frightened or surprised. On the contrary… he looked amused. Curious.
I rushed to the sink. Cold water streamed over my burning skin as I gasped, still shaking, still trembling.
Killian took a step toward me.
A sharp, metallic CLACK echoed through the room.
He froze.
I turned.
My mother stood in the doorway, an assault rifle aimed straight at him.
"Come here, sweetheart," she said in an incredibly calm voice, fingers tight around the trigger.
Her eyes never left Killian's. And there was no surprise in them.
Only hostility.
Before I could speak, she almost shouted:
"Go check on your brother. Now!"
"What?!" I cried, disoriented, before rushing into the living room.
Daniel was lying on the floor. My heart leapt at the sight. I hurried to him, panicked, checked his pulse—it was steady. I let out a breath of relief and tried to wake him, my hands still trembling.
"Dan… Dan, wake up…"
He groaned weakly, then came around.
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External POV
In the kitchen, Lauren didn't move an inch, her weapon still trained on Killian.
"Let's stay calm, Lauren," he said, raising his hands slightly.
"I am very calm," she replied, stepping forward without lowering the gun.
"Doesn't look like it."
"If I weren't, you'd already have a bullet between your eyes," she said coldly.
"Then I'm lucky," he replied, almost amused.
"Don't be so sure. Look at the floor."
Killian glanced down. His expression shifted subtly. Not fear. More like… renewed interest.
"You weren't supposed to—"
"Know?" she cut in. "Too bad for you. I'm far more informed than you think," she said, lowering her weapon just slightly, never losing her composure.
A smile tugged at Killian's lips.
"I underestimated you."
He stepped back slowly, never taking his eyes off her.
"You should leave while you still can. That won't hold me for long."
Lauren didn't bother responding. She left the kitchen and joined her children.
Daniel, awake but pale, was sitting on the couch. Avery handed him a glass of water.
"You okay?" Lauren asked, setting the weapon down on the coffee table.
"Whoa… what is that thing?" Daniel blurted, staring at the rifle.
"Let me see your head," she said, ignoring his question.
She examined the bump methodically, her hands steady—though just slightly trembling.
"Just a bump. Ice will be enough."
"Can you explain…?" Avery murmured.
"Later," Lauren replied sharply.
"But, Mom—"
"I said later. Go upstairs. Go to the bedroom. Take the bag on the bed."
The discussion was over. Avery obeyed, heart racing.
Upstairs, she found a large black bag on her parents' bed and grabbed it immediately.
Lauren checked a few things, then ordered them to leave through the back door. Avery had to help Daniel, who was still unsteady.
As she passed the kitchen, she met Killian's gaze—still there, leaning against the sink, as if waiting for something.
A shiver ran through her shoulders.
He silently mouthed:
We'll meet again.
Lauren slammed the door behind them and locked it.
They got into the car parked behind the house, hearts racing, still unaware of what they had truly just faced.
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