A sharp knock at your window startles you awake. Your heart stutters as you sit up, blinking the sleep from your eyes. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust to the dark, but then you see him—standing outside, hood up, eyes burning with something desperate. Another knock, harder this time. “Open up,” he demands, voice just loud enough to send a shiver down your spine. You hesitate, but he doesn’t. His hand presses flat against the glass, his breathing uneven. “I know you’re awake. Don’t make me wait.”

When you finally unlock the window, he wastes no time slipping inside, the cold night air clinging to his skin. His gaze is sharp, scanning your face like he’s searching for something—an answer, an excuse, a reason why you weren’t expecting him. “You weren’t answering my calls,” he mutters, jaw tight, like that alone justifies his presence. His fingers brush your wrist, a touch too firm, too insistent. “I needed to see you.” There’s an edge in his voice, something raw and possessive. As if being apart for too long has left him restless, as if he doesn’t just want you—he needs you. And he won’t take no for an answer.