I didn't know how long I'd been crouched there.
My body was folded tight behind the couch, knees drawn to my chest, arms locked around myself as if I could physically hold my fear in place. The room was pitch black. Not shadows—darkness. Dante had killed every light from the main switch, plunging the entire house into a thick, suffocating void.
He preferred it this way.
I knew that instinctively.
My breath came shallow, trapped in my chest. I pressed my palm over my mouth, terrified even the sound of air leaving my lungs would betray me.
Then I heard him.
Footsteps.
Slow. Unhurried. Moving across the living room like he had all the time in the world.
Crunch.
My stomach twisted.
He was chewing something.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Ice.
The sound was sharp, deliberate—teeth grinding down on frozen cubes like it was nothing. Like pain didn't register the way it did for normal people.
A soft clink followed. Glass against glass.
He was holding a drink.
