RIVAL’S POV
The three taps came again. Same rhythm. Same patience.
My eyes shot open, knife already in my hand before my brain caught up.
Moonlight cut a pale strip across the floor, just enough to paint the shadow of Thomas curled up on the couch, snoring weakly. He hadn’t heard a thing. Figures.
I crept to the door, every step silent. My ribs still ached from earlier, my lip split wide, but the pain didn’t matter. The knock mattered.
I pressed my ear against the door. Nothing. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl.
Then his voice drifted through, calm as a sermon:
“Relax. I’m not here to fight tonight.”
I closed my eyes. Samuel. Of course.
I slid the lock, pulled the door open a c***k. There he stood, pristine as if we hadn’t torn each other apart just hours a
