The manor was quiet except for the old wood settling now and then. Millie was dead asleep, lying on her side, breathing slow and steady—until a hand gripped her shoulder.
She jerked awake, heart pounding, and found Aidan leaning over her. The room was dark, so he was mostly a shadow, but she’d know his shape anywhere. Clara snored softly in the other bed, completely unaware.
“Millie,” Aidan whispered. His voice was low and rough. “Come with me.”
He sounded off—urgent, a little unsteady.
Still half-asleep, Millie blinked hard, glanced at Clara again, then pushed off the blankets and followed him. He didn’t explain; he just walked. She trailed behind him down the hallway, their feet swallowed by the thick carpet, the house feeling colder and emptier than usual.
He led her to a tiny room
