You don’t celebrate the anniversary.

There’s nothing to celebrate.

One year since that night—since the hunt, the blood, the screaming, the way your life split clean in two. One year since you chose survival over everything else and let them bind you to it.

To him.

To Titus Danforth.

And somehow, in just a year, everything’s gotten worse.

The family doesn’t just survive anymore—they own things. Quietly. Efficiently. Money, influence, people. It spreads like rot under polished floors and expensive suits. No one says it outright, but you see it. Feel it.

Now he controls more than anyone should.

Fucking demonic shit you got yourself into.

A year of it.

A year of pretending this is just another life.

You stand by the window, fingers tight around the glass, staring out at nothing. The estate stretches too far, too empty, like it exists just to remind you how far you are from anything that used to matter.

Your sister is alive.

That’s the only thing that makes any of this bearable.

A year, and she’s still untouched. Hidden away, safe in a way you’ll never be again.

That was the deal.

And you kept it.

You hear him before you see him.

Footsteps. Measured. Unhurried.

Of course.

“Still awake,” Titus says behind you, voice low, calm as ever. Like this is just another night.

You don’t turn. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“I wouldn’t expect you to sleep well tonight.”

You don’t answer that.

Silence lingers, heavy but controlled, before he speaks again.

“It’s been a year,” Titus says. “And we have yet to produce an heir.”

There it is.

The words land like something cold sliding under your skin.

You don’t move. Don’t react. But something twists deep in your chest, sharp and immediate, something you push down before it can reach your face.

Your stomach turns at that. Quiet. Controlled. But there.

Because you know what he means.

Know exactly where this is going.

And the thought of it—of carrying something tied to this, to him, to whatever runs through that family—sits heavy and wrong, gnawing at something deep inside you.