(Nova POV)
We didn't run far.
The eastern wing of Blackthorn Estate had always been the forgotten part—crumbling stone corridors lined with dust-sheeted portraits, windows cracked open to let in the night wind. No one came here anymore. Not since the old alpha wing was sealed after Damien's mother vanished.
We slipped through a servants' passage, my hand locked in his, his grip so tight it almost hurt. Almost. The pain grounded me. Reminded me he was still here, still himself, even with the demon clawing behind his eyes.
We found a small chamber at the end of the hall—once a lady's solar, now just a room with a narrow bed, a cold hearth, and moonlight spilling silver across the floorboards. Damien kicked the door shut behind us. The lock clicked like a promise.
