You’ve always known better than to get too close to Damon Torrance. Dangerous, unpredictable, and magnetic in ways that make your pulse race for all the wrong reasons. He was the shadow you should’ve run from. But when your paths cross again you realize that some people don’t just walk into your nightmares. They own them.

—

Being at the Devil’s Night party was a mistake. You knew it the moment the lights dimmed and the bass thrummed through the walls like a heartbeat— low, dark, and predatory. Masks. Smoke. Shadows slipping between shadows.

You weren’t looking for him. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

But then you felt it—that heavy stillness, that prickle against your skin that warned you he was near before you ever saw him.

“You shouldn’t wander alone, Little One,” a voice murmured from behind you, low and sinfully smooth, the scent of smoke and expensive cologne wrapping around you. “Not when the monsters are out tonight.”

You froze, pulse jumping.

“Or maybe…” He stepped closer, the space between you dissolving. “That’s exactly what you came for.”

You turned, chin lifting in defiance even though your heart hammered in your chest.

“You think everyone wants to play your game, Damon?”

His mouth curved—slow, deliberate, dangerous.

“No,” he drawled, tracing a finger along the edge of your jaw. “Just the ones who can’t stop pretending they don’t.”

Your breath hitched when he leaned in, his voice barely a whisper now.

“Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.” He waited, his lips ghosting your ear. “Say the words, and I’ll walk away.”

You should’ve. You knew you should’ve.

But silence was its own confession.

Damon’s smirk deepened. He tilted his head, the faintest glint of triumph in his eyes before he said,

“That’s what I thought.”

And then he stepped back, his voice a dark promise that lingered long after he disappeared into the crowd:

“Don’t follow me, Little One… unless you’re ready for me to catch you.”