**Alexander's POV**
The world of the living was a symphony Alexander could only ever observe from the balcony of the dead. He lay on the couch, a statue of stillness in the pre-dawn gloom, his eyes closed as he performed the nightly ritual of feigning sleep. It wasn't for his own benefit—he hadn't known true, oblivious rest since the century he was born in. It was for the boy. For Aaron. The charade was a cornerstone of their fragile, unconventional life, a performance of normalcy in a world that had, for Alexander, become profoundly abnormal.
He didn't dream, but he remembered. The memories of last night played behind his closed lids like a silent, grainy film. The alleyway, slick with rain and grime. The frantic, terrified thud of Susparia's heart against his own cold, unmoving one. Th
