That sensation I haven’t felt since I was sixteen.
Being watched.
Not like Damien.
Damien watches me like I’m a storm he wants to drown in.
This is different.
This is cold, distant—like someone staring through a two-way mirror with a scalpel in his hand.
I get up. Slowly. Quietly.
Damien’s knife is still on the dresser.
I wrap my fingers around the hilt.
The blade feels right in my palm. That should scare me, but it doesn’t.
I move to the window and lift the curtain just enough to peek through.
Dark street.
Empty sidewalk.
Still—
I know someone’s out there.
I turn to step back, and that’s when I see it.
A single moth.
Perched on the inside of the windowpane.
Not fluttering.
Not moving.
Just… watching.
I step closer. And that’s when I see the others.
Six of them.
Lined up along the glass as if someone placed them there.
Like they were trained.
I choke back a sound and yank the curtain closed.
My skin prickles.
My chest tightens.
The air in the room has changed.
Then I see the envelope.
