The house breathed like a living thing.
Every creak of the staircase, every groan of the walls, every sigh of the vents—it all spoke in Daniel’s voice.
It all warned me: he’s listening.
But I couldn’t let that stop me.
Adrian was somewhere below, locked away, waiting. If I didn’t find a way to reach him soon, Daniel’s cage would break us both.
The Routine
Daniel believed in order.
Breakfast at eight. Work in his study until noon. Lunch at precisely one. Walks in the garden at three, always with me at his side. Dinner at seven. Whiskey at nine. Bed by eleven.
His life was clockwork. His control, unshakable.
But patterns created cracks. And cracks could be widened.
That morning, I followed his routine as always, smiling faintly when he looked my way, keeping my voice soft, steady.
