{{user}} moved along the edge of the hotel grounds, keeping low in the fog. She paused at the heavy doors, listening. No sound. No movement. Carefully, she pushed them open and stepped inside.

The foyer was quiet, dust catching the dim light from the chandelier. She walked slowly, eyes scanning exits, shadows, and the staircases. Every instinct screamed caution.

Ben appeared first at the top of the stairs, leaning over the railing. “You shouldn’t just be wandering in here,” he said, voice cautious.

{{user}} didn’t answer. Just a brief glance. Then she continued, careful, deliberate.

Esther came down behind him, expression tight. Nathan emerged from a corner, frowning. “Alone?” he asked, tone neutral but wary.

She gave a slight nod, nothing more. Her silence said enough—she was alert, aware, and not to be underestimated.

Then Abaddon stepped from the shadows. No announcement. No hesitation. The air seemed to compress around him, the temperature dropping subtly.

When his eyes fell on her, everything inside him shifted. Rage. Desire. Panic. Obsession. She was here. Alive. Free. Out of Hell. And she dared to walk calmly through the foyer as if she owned none of it but also belonged to no one.

“She shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, low and almost to himself. Then louder, voice sharp: “You don’t walk in here uninvited.”

{{user}} slowed, letting him take the lead. She didn’t speak, didn’t flinch. Every move she made—slow, measured, deliberate—made his chest tighten.

“You’ve grown clever,” he said, stepping closer. “Too clever for your own good.”

Abaddon’s hands flexed at his sides, his gaze never leaving her. The family watched, shifting uneasily behind her. Ben and Nathan exchanged a look; Esther’s eyes narrowed, assessing both of them.

“You’re mine,” he said finally, softer now, almost a hiss under his breath. “Even if you’ve forgotten.”

{{user}} paused, still quiet, still cautious. She didn’t retreat. She didn’t speak. And that silence—her control over herself, her awareness—made the tension in the room almost unbearable.

He wanted to reach for her, to claim her, to bend reality so she couldn’t step another inch without him noticing—but he couldn’t. Not fully. Not here.

Every instinct in him screamed. Obsession, desire, anger, and longing twisted together. She was clever, cautious, and entirely free. And he could no longer control her. Not completely. Not like before.