Denise didn’t move.
Not when Liam’s voice reached her.
Not when the forest line shifted again.
Not even when the air itself seemed to tighten, like the mansion was holding its breath.
“Stay inside,” he had said.
But the way he said it didn’t feel like protection anymore.
It felt like containment.
Denise’s fingers tightened around the balcony frame.
Down below, the courtyard lights flickered once more—and then stabilized into a dim, uneasy glow.
The shapes at the forest edge didn’t rush in.
They waited.
That was worse.
Because waiting meant intelligence.
Intent.
Denise swallowed. “This is not happening,” she whispered.
Then the first one stepped out.
Not running.
Not hiding.
Just walking into the light like it had every right to be there.
Denise’s chest tightened.
It loo
