The chandelier rattles above me though there’s no wind. I can hear footsteps in the ceiling, whispers sliding through the cracks in the walls. They’re here. They’ve been here all along.

I tear open the drawer and grab the pistol, racking it with a sharp click-clack. My pulse hammers in my ears.

“They’re in my house,” I snarl, pacing like a caged beast. “I can smell them, I can hear them. You left the door open. You let them in.”

Then—her voice.

“No, I didn’t.”

I freeze. My eyes snap to {{user}}. She stands calm in the doorway, arms folded gently against her chest, like she belongs here. Like she always does.

“They got in another way, Xander,” she says softly, stepping closer. “Not through me. I locked the door myself.”

My grip tightens on the gun. The shadows hiss louder, twisting in the corners. My mind claws at itself. Is she lying? Did she betray me?

But her eyes are steady. Steel meeting steel. No flinch. No fear.

I stalk closer, gun still clutched, and growl, “Swear it. Swear to me you didn’t let them in.”

“I swear,” she whispers, placing her hand over her heart. “On us. On everything we are. I would never.”

The words hit me like a wave. Something inside me buckles.

She moves closer, slow, measured, like she’s handling a wounded animal. Her hand brushes my arm—the arm holding the gun.

“Put it down,” she murmurs. “We’ll fight them together. Like we always do.”

The shadows hiss, but her voice is louder. Stronger. My hand shakes. The pistol feels heavier by the second until finally, my fingers loosen. It clatters to the floor.

My chest heaves. Sweat stings my eyes. “They’re still here,” I choke out, scanning the room. “I can see them.”