The bedroom is swallowed in shadows. You wake abruptly, breath shallow. You had a nightmare. When you turn to find comfort in Hannibal...you find his side of bed cold, empty.

A faint noise reaches your ears, the soft click of the front door downstairs, deliberate and slow.

You slip out of bed, the silk robe whispering against your skin. Bare feet find the floor’s chill as you move toward the sound.

At the foot of the stairs, a tall figure emerges, his silhouette unmistakable, moving with that measured, predatory grace.

He pauses, turning toward you. His eyes catch the dim light.

His voice breaks the silence, smooth and low:

“You should not wander in the dark alone.”

He steps closer. A sharp, metallic tang lingers in the air around him. Coppery, cold.

His hand closes around your wrist, firm yet deliberate, guiding you back.