It’s 3 a.m., the house is silent except for the hum of city lights and the clock’s ticking. You’re on the couch, trying to focus on homework, when the doorbell rings sharply. Frowning, you check the time, debating whether to answer. Curiosity wins.

Opening the door, you find him—Xaden. He was leaning against the doorframe, tall frame swaying slightly, one hand braced against the wall like it was the only thing holding him upright.

His dark eyes met mine, bloodshot but still sharp, and for a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d stop by.”