It was well past midnight when I finally moved.
The mansion had gone still no footsteps, no voices, not even the sound of doors creaking. Just the low hum of the wind pushing against the windows. I’d been lying awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, replaying every sound, every look, every touch from earlier.
Daemon’s hands.
Darius’s fist.
My own voice, breaking with need and shame.
I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.
The moonlight cut through the window, thin and cold, spilling over the room. I sat up, my throat dry, heart pounding. This place had become a trap one I had willingly walked into without realizing. I couldn’t stay here, not another day.
I moved quietly, pulling on my cloak and boots. Every sound felt too loud the soft scrape of fabric, the wooden floor groaning ben
