The knock came again.
Not loud. Not uncertain.
Measured. Controlled. Intentional.
Elena froze mid-step, the glass of water trembling in her hand. The sound didn’t belong to the night. It didn’t belong to the house in this state—half-lit, heavy with everything unspoken, air thick with the kind of tension that made breathing feel like a choice instead of an instinct.
Julian didn’t look surprised.
That, more than the knock itself, sent a slow chill through her chest.
He was already moving, already positioning himself between her and the door as if the body remembered something the mind hadn’t caught up to yet. His shoulders squared. His jaw set. Not defensive—prepared.
“Elena,” he said quietly, without turning, “don’t move.”
Her fingers tightened around the glass. “Julian—”
Another k
