The moon was pale and full, casting its glow over the stone walls of Nevermore. Isaac Night wasn’t like the others — brooding, sharp-eyed, with a quiet menace that kept people at arm’s length. But with you, it was different.

In the hush of the old greenhouse, away from prying eyes, you leaned against a cracked stone pillar as Isaac lit a match, the flame flickering against his face.

“You shouldn’t be here this late,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “If Weems finds us—”

You smirked. “When has that ever stopped you?”

Isaac’s lips curved into a rare smile. His hand brushed against yours — cold but grounding. “You’re trouble,” he whispered, and for a moment his gaze softened.

But the night wasn’t safe. Strange disappearances had started again around Nevermore. You’d both heard the rumors — a creature in the woods, blood in the snow. Isaac tilted his head, listening to the distant howl. His grip on your hand tightened.

“If anything happens,” he said firmly, his dark eyes catching yours, “you run. Promise me.”

You shook your head. “Not without you.”

For a second, he looked torn between irritation and admiration. Then, with a bitter chuckle, Isaac pulled you close, his forehead resting against yours. “You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered.

But in his arms, in that shadowy greenhouse with danger crawling closer, you knew you’d follow him anywhere.