Do you remember what he took from you that night in the chapel?
The mug falls from my hand.
Coffee stains the comforter like blood.
I don’t move.
Don’t breathe.
That sentence doesn’t belong to Damien.
And that night—the one no one knows about, the one I never speak of—was never his to remember.
Only one other person was there.
And he shouldn’t know where I am.
He shouldn’t know who I’ve become.
I stand. My knees shake.
And outside the bedroom door, Damien’s still humming. Low. Distracted.
Not watching me.
Because this time… he’s not the only one watching.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
DAMIEN
Something’s wrong.
She says nothing. She moves the same way. Drinks her coffee, stares out the window. But her body—her stillness—it’s different.
Tighter.
Guarded.
Like someone who’s bracing for a hit but doesn’t know where it’ll come from.
I know her rhythm. I’ve memorised them. The way her eyes wander when she’s curious. The way her breath hitches when she’s remembering something she doesn’t want to. She tried to hide her fatigue, but her shoulders betrayed her.
She’s performing now.
Softly.
Barely.
But enough that I feel it in my teeth.
She walked into the bedroom twenty minutes ago.
Said she needed to change.
Didn’t come back out.
I let her have the space. I made a show of giving it.
