Stavros crushes the note in his fist. His knuckles turn white, the paper disintegrating under the force of his rage.
He looks at the shattered window, at the wind howling into the secure suite, carrying the scent of impending rain and malice.
"He thinks a brick will break us?" Stavros snarls, his voice low and terrifying. "He thinks glass scares me?"
"He knows where we sleep," I whisper, clutching the sheet to my chest. "He knows everything, Stavros. My nightmare... the memory of Damon... and then this. It’s all connected."
"Stop," he commands.
He crosses the room, ignoring the shards of bulletproof laminate crunching under his bare feet. He reaches the bed and rips the sheet out of my hands.
"Don't hide," he says. "He wants you hiding. He wants you curled up in the dark, rememberin
