The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs echoed in the quiet house, steady and deliberate. Cora looked up just as Evelyn emerged from the stairs that creaked beneath her foot. Her mother's sharp gaze flickered to Damien, then softened as it settled on her.
" I have cleaned your room, dear," Evelyn said, her voice edged with exhaustion. "You should rest. You look tired."
Cora nodded, sparing a brief glance at Damien, whose presence seemed to fill the room with an air of smug amusement. Without another word, she turned and climbed the stairs to her room.
Damien stretched his arms over the back of the couch, making himself comfortable as if he owned the place. "Guess I'll take the couch, then," he mused, his tone laced with casual arrogance.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed, the corners of her lips pressing into a thin line. "I've prepared a room for you too."
A slow smirk curled at the edge of Damien's lips. He leaned back further, tilting his head lazily as he responded, "I sleep better on couches than in beds. Something about the discomfort keeps me on edge. Makes life interesting."
Evelyn's irritation was almost tangible, but instead of arguing, she thrust a glass of milk toward him. "Have this, then."
Damien took the glass but made no move to drink it, simply placing it on the table beside him. His fingers tapped idly against the glass as he looked up at Evelyn, the amusement never leaving his eyes.
"Why aren't you drinking it?" Evelyn's voice was sharp, pressing, demanding.
Damien let out a deep chuckle, his gaze turning wicked. "If it were anyone else, I'd think they were trying to poison me. The way you're insisting is a little suspicious, don't you think?" He picked up the glass, swirling the liquid inside before meeting Evelyn's gaze with a smirk that was all too knowing. "But no worries, future mother-in-law—I trust you."
With deliberate slowness, he lifted the glass to his lips and drained it in one go, setting the empty glass down with a quiet clink.
Evelyn's glare could have burned holes through him, but she said nothing. She simply turned on her heel and made her way toward her room, her posture rigid.
Damien's tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth, tasting the faint grittiness of an undissolved substance. His smirk deepened. Sloppy work, he thought, his gaze trailing after the retreating woman. He chuckled, shaking his head.
Upstairs, Evelyn ensured Cora had her share of the milk before retiring to her room.
The night thickened, the silence stretching through the house like an unseen force. A soft thud disturbed the stillness as a cloaked figure landed soundlessly on the roof. Eyes devoid of warmth scanned the surroundings, a predator surveying its prey.
Meanwhile, in her room, Evelyn sat on the edge of her bed, exhaustion pulling at her limbs when her phone let out a sharp ding.
A single message lit up her screen.
Meet me at the church. Don't be late.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples before rising to her feet. Slipping into a black hooded jacket, she moved with quiet determination.
She had never seen the woman who sent these messages, never met her face to face. And yet, she knew—whoever she was, she had been watching over Cora.
The night Evelyn found Cora at her doorstep, a cryptic note had accompanied her. Never take off your mask. Those words had haunted her for years. Along with it, another slip of paper—a number scrawled in neat, impersonal script.
She had dialed that number countless times, each call met with silence, until Cora turned seven. That was when the woman had called for the first time, issuing precise instructions—what soap Cora should use, which ingredients should be mixed into her food.
The secrecy, the constant warnings, had unsettled Evelyn, but she had obeyed. She had even gone as far as crafting special soaps to send with Cora when she left for school. At first, she had resisted, but when the woman told her Cora was in danger, she had complied without question because she knew deep down that Cora was a little different.
Yet, all those years, the woman had never requested to meet. Not until now.
Pulling her jacket tighter around her, Evelyn stepped out of her room, pausing when she saw Damien still sprawled on the couch, his eyes closed in an almost lazy slumber.
She glared at him before heading toward the stairs, her mind clouded with unease. She would check on Cora first—her priority, always.
Upon reaching Cora's room, she eased the door open, finding her daughter curled beneath the blankets, her breathing slow and even. Evelyn exhaled, adjusting the covers before slipping back out, unaware that Cora's eyes flickered open the moment the door clicked shut.
Cora sat up, her lips pressed together in a thin line. She glanced at the untouched glass of milk on her bedside table before picking it up and emptying it into the flower pot.
Her mother was hiding something.
Cora clenched her jaw, frustration curling in her chest. She had hoped—prayed—that Evelyn would come clean and trust her enough to tell her the truth. But it seemed that day would never come.
Downstairs, Evelyn hesitated at the door before stepping out into the night, vanishing into the darkness.
High above, the cloaked figure tilted its head, watching her go.
Damien's eyes snapped open the moment the door clicked shut.
He sat up, gaze narrowing, before tilting his head upward. He could sense it now. Someone was up there.
Footsteps, far too light to be human, barely making a sound against the roof tiles.
Cora's soft footsteps approached, her nightdress whispering against the floor as she descended the stairs. She parted her lips to speak, but Damien held up a hand, pressing a single finger against his lips.
"Someone's on the roof," he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something knowing. "And I can feel his energy."
Cora inhaled sharply, a cold shiver creeping down her spine.
"Who do you think it is?" she whispered, fear lacing her words.
Damien's lips curled into a smirk, his gaze flickering toward the ceiling. "There's only one way to find out."
Cora hesitated. "Wait—what about my mother? She just left the house. What if she's in danger?"
As much as her mother frustrated her, as much as she hated the secrets, Evelyn was still her mother. Her only family.
Damien considered her for a moment before shrugging lazily. "How about we deal with the uninvited guest up there first?"
Cora bit her lip but nodded.
Then, unexpectedly, Damien closed the distance between them. Before she could react, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead.
Cora's breath hitched, her body freezing in place.
He pulled back, smirking at her stunned expression.
"Lock the door and stay put. I'll be back," he murmured, his voice rich with amusement.
And then, just like that—he was gone.