Chapter Eighteen — “The Threat Returns”

The hallway was empty.

But the chill in my spine told me I hadn’t imagined it.

I stood rooted, the mirror still humming with something unspoken. It didn’t reflect him anymore only me. My lips slightly parted. My chest rises too fast. The hollow in my throat still echoed where his voice had caught before leaving.

He’d been watching me.

And I’d felt it…not with my eyes, but with my skin. That strange kind of knowing that lives just beneath the surface, under bone and blood. That breath between almost and nothing.

That single moment at the dinner table kept replaying, over and over, like the echo of a struck match: the brush of his fingers against mine. The hesitation. The heat behind his restraint. The promise of something neither of us dared touch.

He’d wanted to touch me.

And I had wanted him to.

Even now, the space between our hands still burned phantom heat, imagined weight. I could feel it more now than when it happened. The curve of his thumb, hovering over my knuckles like a secret. That pause wasn’t doubt. It wasn’t rejection.

It was war.

A war he was losing, and I wasn’t ready to win.

What scared me more wasn’t that he stopped.

It was that I wanted him not to.

Because if he’d touched me… really touched me.

I don’t know what I would’ve done. Given in? Broken apart? Collapsed into the comfort of someone who once left me bleeding?

Maybe all of it. Maybe worse.

I took a step back from the mirror, arms wrapped around me like armour. My skin still remembered something my heart refused to admit. Something I couldn’t unfeel.

Damian had pulled away. But not because he didn’t want me.

Because he did.

My phone buzzed.

I flinched, violently, heart still tangled in too many things I couldn’t name. I pulled it from my pocket with fingers that felt stiff, and distant. Cold.

Unknown Number.

A single image. One line of text.

I tapped it open and the world flipped sideways.

Lily.

In a hospital bed. Her face was pale, lips parted slightly under the oxygen tube. Wires and tubing curled around her arms like snakes. The photo was grainy, taken from an angle, like someone had leaned in from the doorway, watching her.

The caption below made my blood freeze.

Protect her. Or I will.

My breath shattered.

The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor, echoing like a gunshot through the silence.

No.

No.

I stared at it, pulse thundering in my ears, the rest of the house melting into a blur. Then I dove to the ground, snatched it, and reread the message.

It was real.

The timestamp. Ten minutes ago.

Not a threat. A warning. A promise. Someone had been near her room.

Inside.

Inside.

Oh God.

My stomach heaved. I clutched the wall for balance as I hit call. Mark. It barely rang.

He picked up instantly. “Ava?”

“I just got a photo of Lily,” I choked out. “She’s in her hospital bed, but someone took it. They sent me a message. A threat.”

His voice sharpened. “You’re sure it’s recent?”

“Less than ten minutes old. They were close, Mark. They got close enough to take a picture. This wasn’t from a hallway camera. It was someone in the room. In the room.”

I heard him move, and bark orders to someone near him. “Stay where you are. Do not open the door for anyone. I’ll handle this. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone. My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold it. A knot in my chest twisted tighter until I could barely breathe.

Ethan.

I should’ve known he wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

Of course, he’d come for her.

Because Lily was the only part of me I couldn’t armor. The only piece of my life I couldn’t learn to unlove. And he knew that.

He was watching. Waiting.

Maybe he never stopped.

I stumbled toward the front door, coat halfway on, shoes barely shoved onto my feet, heart pounding like a war drum. I needed to go to her. Now. I needed to see her with my own eyes, hear her breath, feel her skin warm and alive.

But then I stopped. Cold.

No.

If someone was already close enough to send this… if they knew I was alone, if they were trying to lure me out running into the open could be exactly what they wanted.

I couldn’t risk it.

Couldn’t risk leading danger straight to her.

Couldn’t risk being the reason something worse happened.

My back hit the door, hard, and I slid down until I was sitting on the marble floor, still clutching the phone like it was the last anchor I had. My whole body shook and trembled in a way I couldn’t control. My breath came in shallow stutters.

She was alone.

I had left her alone.

And now someone had been there. Watching. Close enough to touch her.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until colours bloomed, trying to erase the image of her in that bed. So small. So still. She didn’t belong in places like that. Machines shouldn’t be breathing for her.

Tears built behind my eyes, hot and useless.

And then… his voice returned.

Just my name. That fragile, unfinished “Ava…” he’d left me with. No answers. No promises. Just the sound of something he wasn’t ready to say.

Why hadn’t he said more?

Why had it sounded like goodbye?

I shut my eyes again and saw his hand, so close to mine. Not touching. Choosing not to. Like he couldn’t afford softness. Like feeling anything for me would ruin him.

But it wasn’t just him who pulled away.

It was me too.

I hadn’t leaned forward. Hadn’t closed the gap.

Because I didn’t know what would’ve happened if I had.

Because part of me… part of me still wanted to fall.

And part of me was terrified that I already had.

“The Threat Returns”

The hallway was empty.

But the chill in my spine told me I hadn’t imagined it.

I stood rooted, the mirror still humming with something unspoken. It didn’t reflect him anymore only me. My lips slightly parted. My chest rises too fast. The hollow in my throat still echoed where his voice had caught before leaving.

He’d been watching me.

And I’d felt it…not with my eyes, but with my skin. That strange kind of knowing that lives just beneath the surface, under bone and blood. That breath between almost and nothing.

That single moment at the dinner table kept replaying, over and over, like the echo of a struck match: the brush of his fingers against mine. The hesitation. The heat behind his restraint. The promise of something neither of us dared touch.

He’d wanted to touch me.

And I had wanted him to.

Even now, the space between our hands still burned phantom heat, imagined weight. I could feel it more now than when it happened. The curve of his thumb, hovering over my knuckles like a secret. That pause wasn’t doubt. It wasn’t rejection.

It was war.

A war he was losing, and I wasn’t ready to win.

What scared me more wasn’t that he stopped.

It was that I wanted him not to.

Because if he’d touched me… really touched me.

I don’t know what I would’ve done. Given in? Broken apart? Collapsed into the comfort of someone who once left me bleeding?

Maybe all of it. Maybe worse.

I took a step back from the mirror, arms wrapped around me like armour. My skin still remembered something my heart refused to admit. Something I couldn’t unfeel.

Damian had pulled away. But not because he didn’t want me.

Because he did.

My phone buzzed.

I flinched, violently, heart still tangled in too many things I couldn’t name. I pulled it from my pocket with fingers that felt stiff, and distant. Cold.

Unknown Number.

A single image. One line of text.

I tapped it open and the world flipped sideways.

Lily.

In a hospital bed. Her face was pale, lips parted slightly under the oxygen tube. Wires and tubing curled around her arms like snakes. The photo was grainy, taken from an angle, like someone had leaned in from the doorway, watching her.

The caption below made my blood freeze.

Protect her. Or I will.

My breath shattered.

The phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor, echoing like a gunshot through the silence.

No.

No.

I stared at it, pulse thundering in my ears, the rest of the house melting into a blur. Then I dove to the ground, snatched it, and reread the message.

It was real.

The timestamp. Ten minutes ago.

Not a threat. A warning. A promise. Someone had been near her room.

Inside.

Inside.

Oh God.

My stomach heaved. I clutched the wall for balance as I hit call. Mark. It barely rang.

He picked up instantly. “Ava?”

“I just got a photo of Lily,” I choked out. “She’s in her hospital bed, but someone took it. They sent me a message. A threat.”

His voice sharpened. “You’re sure it’s recent?”

“Less than ten minutes old. They were close, Mark. They got close enough to take a picture. This wasn’t from a hallway camera. It was someone in the room. In the room.”

I heard him move, and bark orders to someone near him. “Stay where you are. Do not open the door for anyone. I’ll handle this. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone. My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold it. A knot in my chest twisted tighter until I could barely breathe.

Ethan.

I should’ve known he wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

Of course, he’d come for her.

Because Lily was the only part of me I couldn’t armor. The only piece of my life I couldn’t learn to unlove. And he knew that.

He was watching. Waiting.

Maybe he never stopped.

I stumbled toward the front door, coat halfway on, shoes barely shoved onto my feet, heart pounding like a war drum. I needed to go to her. Now. I needed to see her with my own eyes, hear her breath, feel her skin warm and alive.

But then I stopped. Cold.

No.

If someone was already close enough to send this… if they knew I was alone, if they were trying to lure me out running into the open could be exactly what they wanted.

I couldn’t risk it.

Couldn’t risk leading danger straight to her.

Couldn’t risk being the reason something worse happened.

My back hit the door, hard, and I slid down until I was sitting on the marble floor, still clutching the phone like it was the last anchor I had. My whole body shook and trembled in a way I couldn’t control. My breath came in shallow stutters.

She was alone.

I had left her alone.

And now someone had been there. Watching. Close enough to touch her.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until colours bloomed, trying to erase the image of her in that bed. So small. So still. She didn’t belong in places like that. Machines shouldn’t be breathing for her.

Tears built behind my eyes, hot and useless.

And then… his voice returned.

Just my name. That fragile, unfinished “Ava…” he’d left me with. No answers. No promises. Just the sound of something he wasn’t ready to say.

Why hadn’t he said more?

Why had it sounded like goodbye?

I shut my eyes again and saw his hand, so close to mine. Not touching. Choosing not to. Like he couldn’t afford softness. Like feeling anything for me would ruin him.

But it wasn’t just him who pulled away.

It was me too.

I hadn’t leaned forward. Hadn’t closed the gap.

Because I didn’t know what would’ve happened if I had.

Because part of me… part of me still wanted to fall.

And part of me was terrified that I already had.