Grace
Daniel lay on the porch, his throat soaked in fresh blood, the front of his shirt stained deep red. His skin had turned pale—too pale. It looked like death had already kissed him. Grace stood frozen in the doorway, her breath caught in her throat, a scream rising but never escaping.
Alex stood behind Daniel, his voice soft but sharp like a blade. “If you care about the boy,” he said, “you’ll stay quiet.”
Grace’s scream died before it was born. Her eyes stayed locked on Daniel’s lifeless form, her heart pounding with helpless fear.
Alex moved closer, his hand wrapping around Daniel’s neck. “He’s not dead yet,” he said, “but he’s close. Very close. If you want him to live past tonight, you’ll invite me in.”
Grace’s lips trembled. Her voice refused to come. She swallowed hard, trie
