DAMIEN
Allison never left her door unlocked. Ever.
Whether she was in the room or five miles away, that lock was engaged. It wasn’t a lack of trust, and it wasn’t because she had secrets to hide. It was a trauma response, a scar tissue formed over years of brutal abuse.
She had been forced to live as a blood slave for so long, her body a public commodity for any abomination with a thirst or depraved urge. Even though she knew a simple lock wouldn’t stop a monster intent on hurting her, she needed that barrier. It was the only illusion of safety that allowed her to close her eyes at night.
As I inched closer to the threshold, the sound of careless shuffling cut through the blare of the alarms.
I went on high alert.
There was definitely someone inside, and from the sounds of drawers be
