Then—
A noise.
Faint.
A distant door closing.
The shuffle of someone returning to the hall.
Santino jerks back like he’s been shot.
His breath drags raggedly from his chest.
His hand drops from the wall, fingers shaking.
His eyes are pure torment.
I straighten slowly, smoothing my blouse, letting my expression return to soft, harmless innocence while my pulse still riots.
He drags a hand over his mouth—
not a priest,not a man of control.
Just a man who came one breath away from losing everything.
“This can’t happen,” he says hoarsely.
But I see it—the truth in the tremor of his voice, in the way his gaze keeps falling to my mouth.
It already did.
I step past him, close enough that the edge of my hair brushes his arm when I move.
“Then you shouldn’t follow me into dark hallways,” I whisper.
His breath stops.
Just for a second.
I don’t look back as I walk away.
But I feel him watching.
Burning.
Breaking.
And in the hollow where my mission should be, something warm and dangerous curls its fingers around my spine.
I didn’t plan for this.
I didn’t intend for him.
But I turned something inside him tonight—
a hinge shifting,a lock loosening,a door creaking open in the dark.
Santino won't be able to shut that door again.
