Damian wasn't asleep. He had learned long ago how to exist in that strange space between rest and awareness, where the body lay still but the mind never truly shut down. The estate was silent for someone who had spent most of his life listening for danger. Every sound registered: the faint rustle of the trees outside, the echo of footsteps carried through the long corridors.
So when he heard movement outside his door, he was already alert.
He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was past midnight.
No one knocked on his door at this hour unless something was wrong.
Damian rose from the bed in one smooth motion, his bare feet silent against the floor. He didn't bother putting on a shirt. He reached the door, paused briefly, then opened it.
And froze.
Ava stood in front of him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
