The moment the door shut between us, silence rushed into the apartment like a cold wind.
Not peace. Not relief.
Something heavier like the air was holding its breath. I kept my chin pressed against the wall longer than I should have, feeling the faint earthquake in my fingertips. My heart was loud, too loud, pounding against my chest like I was the one left outdoors in the storm. On the other side, Damon didn't move. I didn't need to see him to know. His presence felt like a shadow stretching under the door dark, still, staying. My throat tensed. Part of me wanted to open the door, to ask him why he came, why he awaited, why he chose this moment of all days to eventually feel something. But I stayed still. I couldn't let him drag me back with many broken promises said in the rain. I backed down slowly, step by shaky step, until the silence between us grew thick enough to choke on.
My apartment was still dim, lit only by the warm radiance of a small lamp on the coffee table. My damp hair adhered to my shoulders, drops sliding down the back of my neck.
The kerchief wrapped around me felt too thin, too exposing, like Damon's eyes were still on my skin. I swallowed hard and forced myself toward the kitchen. My muscles felt stiff, nearly foreign, like my body hadn't caught up with the reality of my choices. I filled the kettle and set it on the stove. The quiet hiss of the burner lighting up felt grounding for a second.
Then a soft sound behind the door. Not a knock. A shift. A faint, heavy exhale. Damon was still there.
Of course he was.
This was a man who never chased me for three years, yet ever couldn't walk down after I eventually let him go.
I closed my eyes, trying to undergird the earthquake in my chest.
Aurora, His voice was broken glass quiet, jagged, raw.
I didn't turn. I couldn't.
Silence stretched.
I'm not leaving, he muttered.
A shiver ran up my chine.
I kept my eyes fixed on the kettle, indeed though my vision blurred.
He wasn't leaving.
A gash I didn't notice had formed slipped down my impertinence, and I wiped it down snappily, angry at myself, angry at him, angry at three wasted times and the cruel timing of his unforeseen awakening.
Please, the word from him was so soft I nearly didn't hear it, but my heart did.
It cracked a little.
No. No, Aurora. Don't crumble.
Not now.
But before I could stop myself, I set up my bases moving toward the door. My hand floated over the handle, one twist down, one twist, and he'd be standing there wet, breathless, red- eyed, ruined.
I closed my hand into a fist rather.
I wasn't that woman presently.
I stepped back just as the kettle sizzled. The treble sound cut through the pressure like a blade, dragging me back into my body. I shut off the burner snappily.
Behind me, behind the door, Damon went still again.
For a long time, neither of us moved.
Eventually, I carried the storming mug into the living room and sank onto the lounge, entwining my legs beneath me. The tea fogged my glasses slightly. I inhaled the warmth. I needed warmth. Comfort. Something simple and safe. I didn't need Damon Blackwood's sudden desperation unraveling me after years of emotional starvation. Minutes passed. Five. Ten. Twenty.
Ultimately, the soft thump I anticipated the sound of steps walking down never came.
Only further silence.
My stomach twisted. Was he sleeping against the door? Collapsed? harkening?
I forced myself not to watch.
I reached for my phone to distract myself, but the screen lit up before I touched it.
1 New message – Unknown Number
I lowered .
My thumb dithered above the message before I opened it.
" You don't know me."
My breath hitched.
Another message came incontinently.
" But you should be careful tonight."
My heart lurched in my chest.
A knavery?
Spam?
One of the fete 's gossip harpies trying to poke at fresh injuries?
I started to type a reply, but the phone buzzed again.
" You're not safe now that you've left him."
My stomach dropped.
A cold surge spread across my spine, hands, chine.
Not safe? I looked toward the door But Damon wasn't knocking anymore. A soft tremor moved through my hands as I typed: Who is this? The reply came instantly.
" Someone who knows what you don't."
Cold fear crawled up my neck. I stood from the lounge, sluggishly, still, like any sound might provoke something lurking in the dark.
I moved toward the window and browsed through the hangouts.
Rain still fell, but the road was empty. Nobody. No buses. Just wet asphalt glistering under a fluttering streetlamp also another buzz.
" Don't open the door. Not for him. Not for anyone." My mouth went dry. I swallowed. Hard. This wasn't a prank.
Not presently.
I backed down from the window, palpitation forging. I gripped the phone to my chest as if it could shield me. Also three knocks.
Not Damon's frantic pounding.
Three slow, deliberate knocks.
Precise. Controlled. Chilling.
Every hair on my body stood upright.
Someone was behind my door.
Someone who wasn't Damon.
I stepped backward, breath pulsing. My eyes darted to the door no darkness beneath it, no sound except the rain tapping against my window.
Another message popped up.
" Don't move."
My heart jumped straight into my throat.
Whoever they were they were watching me.
I froze.
I didn't, indeed breathe.
The phone buzzed again.
He left five minutes ago
My chest squeezed sorrowfully, but another message followed before I could react.
The danger didn't. A chill locked around my lungs. Three slow knocks came again. My knees weakened. Another message
" You're not alone in that hallway."
The breath I'd been holding burst out in a bitsy, involuntary sound.
A footstep outside. Then another. Soft. Measured. Predatory. My gaze darted across my apartment. No weapon. No escape. No Damon. A faint shadow passed under the small gap beneath the door. Too quiet to be Damon. Too still. Too intentional.
My heart beat so fast it hurt. I took another step back, but the phone buzzed again.
" Don't make a sound."
I clamped a pulsing hand over my mouth just as the doorknob shifted. sluggishly.
still. Turning turning turning
I didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
Didn't think. The knob stopped. Silence. Then a whisper.
A low, strange manly voice.
Aurora
I nearly screamed.
That wasn't Damon.
That wasn't anyone I knew.
My phone buzzed formerly more as the man outside dragged a cutlet sluggishly down the length of my door, the sound a nipping scrape against the wood.
The text read
"Whatever you do… Don't answer him."