Winter’s POV
The paranoia was becoming suffocating.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, following me, and the longer I tried to ignore it, the worse it got. The anonymous messages had stopped for a day, but that didn’t make me feel any safer. I was more aware now, more alert, but nothing seemed to make the dread go away.
Damon was becoming harder to read. Every session, every conversation, felt like we were teetering on the edge of something neither of us could fully understand.
It had started with small moments—his gaze lingering a little too long, the way his voice would soften when he said my name, the subtle shift in his posture whenever I said something too personal.
I had to tell him.
But how could I tell him that I was being followed? How could I explain
