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Even awake I can feel that familiar pressure closing around my throat until I can’t breathe, can’t scream, can’t move.

That goddamn nightmare always knows exactly where to find me.

My throat.

My lungs.

The part of me that remembers what it feels like to be helpless and alone.

Usually, once it gets it’s sharp teeth around my neck, it doesn’t let go until I wake up and give up on sleep entirely.

But last night was different. It felt different, too.

Somewhere in the middle of it, when the darkness had already swallowed me whole, something shifted.

I don’t know what the fuck happened.

I just know that one second I was trapped inside the nightmare, fighting for air, and the next...nothing. The pressure disappeared. The darkness loosened its hold on me. Whatever the fuck had its teeth around my throat let go without struggle.

The nightmare simply…vanished.

And somehow, I slept more than three hours. Which is practically a fucking miracle.

I really don’t know what changed. Fuck, maybe my brain finally decided to give me one fucking night off. Or maybe…I stop that thought before it finishes.

Because there is one other possibility.

Artemis.

My mind goes there instantly.

She wasn’t in the nightmare. But somehow, when I think about the moment the nightmare released me, I remember the sound of her voice. The way she speaks like every sentence is an argument she intends to win. The way she looks at me like she can see every ugly piece of me and still she returned my kiss.

I take a deep breath and start walking down the quiet hallway, telling myself I need to get back to work.

That’s all.

Work.

Because I shouldn’t be looking for a woman with white-blonde hair, a permanent attitude problem, and an irritating talent for making me forget what the hell I was saying whenever she looks at me.

When I turn toward the kitchen, I tell myself I’m getting coffee. When I pass the dining room without stopping, I tell myself I’m looking for Mrs. Han. When my feet carry me toward the east wing, I tell myself I’m looking for inspiration for the album.

That’s the lie I tell myself but the truth is…I want to fucking see her.

I cut through the long hallway and push open the library’s double doors.

Something feels off immediately.

I stop and my eyes quickly sweep across the room.

Most people wouldn’t notice it. But most people don’t spend enough time in their library to know when something is out of place.

I do.

This is one of the few rooms in the estate where I actually spend time when I’m not in the gym or the studio. I’ve spent enough hours in here to know the layout with my eyes close.

Every loveseat. Every shelf. Every table. Every fucking book.