Kreed’s.
The brass handle was cool under my palm, the metal warming quickly to match my skin temperature. A faint scent of cedar and sea salt bled through the narrow crack where door met frame, stirring emotions within me. I pushed it open slowly, the hinges gliding without a peep.
I soaked up every detail of his space. Dark furniture in rich tones. Minimal clutter on visible surfaces. The bed was made, unused for too long, and books lined a shelf in alphabetical order by author. It still seemed out of character for Kreed to read for enjoyment, but I liked knowing he was more than he appeared. Kreed was literally the expression don’t judge a book by its cover. How very fitting.
I slipped inside and let the door fall shut behind me with my back pressed against it. Inside this room, the rest of the chaotic world disappeared, leaving me in a quiet sanctuary. I crossed to the tall window dominating the far wall, my fingertips trailing along thewindowsill’s surface. Beyond the glass, rows of weeping willows flanked the long, winding driveway. The wind caught their long, bare branches, making them sway and heave under the weight of melting snow dripping in steady streams onto the ground below. Small puddles were forming in the grass, catching the last rays of afternoon light.
It wouldn’t be long now until they bloomed, maybe another month at most. I imagined the estate would transform completely then, bursting into lush, vibrant green life. Leaves unfurling on every branch until the willows created a tunnel of living shade. The manicured lawns probably turned emerald, and I’d bet there were flower beds somewhere that would explode with color.
A small, unexpected part of me felt genuine sadness that I wouldn’t be here to witness the transformation. Not because I’d miss living in this oppressive house but because I wouldn’t get to see this particular view in the full glory of spring and summer. Kreed’s room had the best vantage point on the entire property.
My pulse eased, slowing closer to more normal than it had been in days. It was strange, deeply strange, how being in this house didn’t send me spiraling into panic. Perhaps it was only this room that brought me comfort.
I should have felt trapped here. I should have wanted to run back out into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the front door. Instead, I found myself sinking into the familiarity of this space.
My fingers drifted absently over the top of his dresser, trailing across its surface and the scattered objects arranged there: a journal, a pocketknife, keys, and a worn leather wallet. Each object was a small piece of him, fragments of his life.
The bed drew me, its thick, dark comforter and fluffy pillows just waiting for someone to snuggle in. How could I resist? Despite sleeping most of the night, I was still so exhausted. I tugged down the covers and crawled in fully clothed, not bothering to remove even my socks. The sheets were cool and fresh at first contact, then gradually warmed as they settled around me, cocooning me in fabric smellinglike Kreed. My back sank into the mattress, and I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes tracing the faint network of hairline cracks in the smooth plaster. My mind wouldn’t shut off. I kept wondering what Donovan could possibly want from Kreed in exchange for the information he provided for my rescue. Whatever price he’d demanded, whatever favor he was calling in, it wouldn’t be simple or easy or painless. That much I knew with absolute certainty.
And it was my fault. All of it.
Kreed wouldn’t have needed to make promises to his father if I hadn’t traded myself for Kenny without considering the consequences. If I hadn’t thought I could fix everything on my own without involving anyone else. But even knowing the debt he’d been forced to incur to bring me home safely, even understanding what it must have cost him to ask Donovan for help, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the choice.
Kenny’s life had depended on it, and I’d do it again without hesitation even knowing everything that followed.
Still, Kreed having to face his father’s demands because of my choices gnawed at my insides. He’d take this burden on himself completely, like he always did, carrying the strain of everyone’s mistakes and consequences as if it were his natural duty. He wouldn’t blame me, and somehow it only made the guilt worse.
I turned onto my side, drawing my knees up slightly and pulling the blanket closer around my shoulders. My eyelids grew increasingly heavy despite every intention I’d had of staying awake until he returned. My breathing began to match the soft, mechanical tick of the clock on his nightstand—inhale-tick-exhale-tick, a lullaby of sorts.
The world outside the window blurred gradually as sleep crept in on quiet feet, uninvited but not unwelcome. The bare willow branches became abstract shapes. The afternoon light softened to indistinct gold. My thoughts turned fuzzy and disconnected, losing their crisp edges.
Before drifting completely under, my last coherent thought was that I wasn’t completely terrified of what camenext.
Even in this house.
Somewhere in mynot quite conscious state, the door squeaked. My eyes blinked open slowly to the muted amber glow spilling in from the hallway, creating a narrow triangle of light across the bed. And there he was, standing near the window, a statue carved from midnight itself.
Something in me understood without words, without explanation, that whatever conversation he’d had with his father hadn’t gone well. The air around him pulsed with anger, and I could almost taste the violence he was holding back.
“Kreed?” My voice came out scratchy with sleep. I pushed myself up on my elbows, feeling the sheets tangle around my legs. The borrowed hoodie had ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of skin at my waist to the cool air. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the dark glass of the window, on the ghostly reflection staring back at him. “Don’t,” he finally muttered roughly before I could reach him.
My feet paused. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t come near me right now.” He turned, and I caught the full force of something wild and wounded flashing in his stormy eyes. “I’m too churned up inside. Too close to losing control. I don’t want to hurt you, and I might if you?—”
I resumed walking, ignoring his warning entirely. “You keeping me at arm’s length, shutting me out, that’s what’s hurting me, Kreed.”
His nostrils flared, chest expanding with an inhale. “Now’s not the time to toy with my emotions, little raven. I’m barely holding on here.”
“Who said I was toying with you?” I took another deliberate step, watching his hands curled into fists at his sides and the way his breathing changed. The distance between us was shrinking with eachmovement. “You think locking yourself behind all that anger is going to fix whatever your father wants from you.”
A harsh breath ripped out of him as his hand scraped through his dark hair. “We need to leave.”
Leaving was definitely an option, but it wouldn’t deplete what Kreed was feeling. I’d seen him like this before after talking with his father. Donovan Corvo triggered something impactful in Kreed. “Maybe,” I agreed, but I was ready to offer an alternative. “But I have a better idea first.”
He bristled, assuming I planned to touch him. I did have every intention of doing so, just not yet. I crossed to the partially open door and closed it, the room submerging into twilight. My fingers found the lock and turned it, the decisive click sounding impossibly loud in the quiet room.
