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Someone is stealing my peanut butter. Possibly ghost-related.

I snorted. Then full-on laughed. It burst out of me, uncontrollable, and echoed through the basement until I clapped a hand over my mouth. Of course Doris had a suspicion log. Of course she was tracking the tenants like some over-caffeinated cryptid hunter.

But as I flipped through more pages, the laughter dried up.

It wasn’t a joke. She really was documenting all of us. Watching us. Writing everything down like puzzles to be solved or threats to be neutralized. And Roman—Romanwas mentioned two separate times. Once about “late-night pacing” and once about “unusual howling during full moons.”

My chest tightened. This wasn’t funny anymore.

I stuffed the notebook under my arm, abandoned the rest of the laundry, and ran upstairs. I didn’t stop until I burst through the apartment door. Roman looked up from the kitchen, barefoot and very shirtless—because of course he was—sipping something from a ridiculous black mug that said Let Me Sleep or Die.

I slammed the notebook onto the counter.

“I take it laundry didn’t go great.”

“She’s watching us,” I said, breathing hard. “Doris. I found a notebook. Like… an actual physical logbook of her suspicions about everyone in the building. She called you a potential wolf.”

He walked over and flipped the notebook open. Read a few lines. Raised an eyebrow. Then shrugged. “Yeah, that tracks.”

I gawked. “Roman.”

“She’s harmless,” he said, setting the notebook aside like I’d brought home expired coupons. “She probably thinks everyone’s breaking some ancient code or is secretly a raccoon in disguise. She once yelled at me for putting the trash out ‘with too much masculine energy.’ I don’t even know what that means.”

I stared at him. “You’ve been so uptight about shifter rules and secrecy and everything, and now you’re just… whatever about this?”

Roman grinned. “Mags, she still uses a landline. She couldn’t out a supernatural being if we howled into her answering machine. I like to play it safe, because if I straight up shifted in front of her, there would be problems, but we both know she watches everyone in this building like a hawk.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

He leaned against the counter like this was the highlight of his day. “Your very sexy, very chill roommate. Now would you like to file a formal cuddle complaint, or are we cool?”

I rolled my eyes. Hard. But the smile snuck in anyway. Just a little.

I turned to walk away, muttering under my breath, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Roman’s voice followed me down the hall as I headed to the basement to finish my laundry. “Worth it.”

I laughed. But the worry? That stayed. Because even under all the humor, all the banter, all the warmth—I still didn’t know what I was to him. And that silence between the jokes was starting to feel a lot like a question I was afraid to ask.

After I put my clothes away, I dragged myself through the apartment like a woman who’d survived war. My body was weighed down by that specific kind of full-body ache that came from a long day of kickboxing, emotional whiplash, and spending the last forty-eight hours pretending I wasn’t actively falling in love with my supernatural neurospicy roommate.

Every inch of me hurt.

All I wanted was a hot shower. Maybe a slice of toast. Possibly death.

I limped toward the bathroom like I was auditioning for a zombie movie.

“If there’s wolf hair in the tub again,” I muttered, peeling off my tank top, “I’m filing for emotional damages.”

The universe, shockingly, was merciful tonight. The tub was clean. Sparkling, even. Not a single stray hair in sight. Bless him.

I turned the water on and stepped under the spray, hissing a little as it scalded my skin before easing into that perfect-too-hot temperature I liked best. The water hit my sore shoulders like a benediction. I tipped my head back and let it soak into my hair, steam curling around me like a second skin.

For once, I didn’t want to think. Not about Seraphina. Not about Doris and her supernatural stalker notebook. Not about how Roman looked at me like I was something rare, and how dangerous it felt to want to believe him.

I just wanted heat. Silence. Soap. Maybe a minute of pretending my life was simple.

I was halfway into lathering my shampoo—eyes closed, sighing like I’d found the gates of heaven—when I felt a shift in the air behind me.