The house is silent. Empty. Dark except for the faint glow of streetlights through the windows.
"Fuck," I breathe. "Did I—did I hallucinate?"
Oh god. Oh god. I'm losing my mind. Finally, I am completely, irreversibly insane. The ghosts won. They've broken me. I'm seeing Drogo now, fucking phantom Drogo, feeling phantom cocks inside me while I—
I freeze. Because I'm soaked.
Not just wet. Drenched. Slick running down my inner thighs, cooling against my skin. I can feel it—the heaviness, the proof.
My hand travels down slowly. Shaking. Slips between my legs. I push two fingers inside myself.
They slide in easily. Too easily. "Fuck."
I used to be tighter. I know I used to be tighter. But now there's this… space. This stretched, used feeling. Like something—someone—big was just there. Filling me. Claiming me.
This happened. This happened.
My eyes land on the coffee table. A note. White paper. Black ink. Handwriting I'd recognize in my sleep.
I missed you.
Take that shower.
Wash him off.
—D.
I stare at it. At the words that feel like a brand burning into my retinas. At the proof that I'm not insane. That he was here. That everything happened. That I'm his now whether I agreed to it or not.
"Fuck!" I slam back against the couch. Cover my mouth with both hands to keep the scream inside. "Fuck fuck fuck—"
He was here. Is here?
I jump up. Run through the house. Dining room—empty. Candles burned down to nothing. Food still on the table. But no Drogo. Kitchen—empty. Gun drawer hanging open.
"Lucy." I need Lucy. Need to hear her voice. Need her to tell me I'm not insane. "Phone. Where's my—"
I spin. Check the dining table again. The floor. Nothing. Must have fallen somewhere. Laptop.
I sprint to my office. Nearly trip over my own feet. Slam into my desk. Yank the laptop open. Click. Click. Click. No internet.
"What?" I stare at the screen. At the little "no connection" icon mocking me. "How?"
I stand so fast the chair crashes backward. Run to the hallway where the router lives. And freeze.
The router is gone. Just torn cables hanging from the wall. Sparking faintly. Destroyed.
My heart starts beating faster. Too fast. Arrhythmic. The ghosts didn't do this. The ghosts can't destroy routers. Someone did this. Someone real.
Car. I need my car. Need to get to Lucy. Need to get out. I need to tell her that he has returned. Fuck. I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my lips. He was back. Drogo. My Drogo.
I grab my keys from the bowl by the door. Hands shaking so badly they rattle. Yank the front door open—
And stop.
Two men block my path. Black suits. Black shirts. Ties. Expressionless faces. Built like walls. Standing on my porch like sentries. Like guards. Like I'm the prisoner and this is my cell.
"Miss." The one on the left raises his palm. Calm. Polite. Deadly. "You cannot leave."
