It’s late, the house quiet, when you hear the unmistakable sound of a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone.

When you open it, your heart skips a beat.

Standing there is Quinn. It’s been years, but you’d recognize him anywhere—though something about him is different. The familiar grin is there, but it’s colder now, like it’s been sharpened to a point.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here… but I guess I’ve got a knack for finding what I want.”

He steps into your space, uninvited, his gaze lingering on you like he’s savoring the sight. "You thought you could forget about me. Thought you could move on. Did you really think it would be that easy?"

There’s a pause as his eyes narrow slightly, reading you, taking in every reaction. Then, his smile returns—sweeter, but with an edge.

“I think it’s time we picked up where we left off.”