That night he finally came to me heavy, cloaked in silence, as though even the walls of my apartment knew something was about to change.
It wasn’t Valen walking through my door this time. Not the man who kissed me like he wanted to memorize the shape of my mouth, not the man who made me laugh despite the blood on our hands, not the sinner who could whisper salvation between sheets.
This Valen was different.
He carried shadows with him. And the shadows looked back.
His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, the fabric streaked with dried crimson, not his but fresh enough that it hadn’t had time to brown. His knuckles were split, the raw flesh crusted over. His hair clung damp to his forehead, and his eyes,God, his eyes held the weight of a thousand ghosts.
For a heartbeat, I didn’t move. My fin
