Alina's POV
For the first time in two years, I wasn't alone.
The moment Grandma and Ana stepped into my tiny apartment, the cold emptiness that had settled in my bones for so long began to thaw. The space that often felt suffocatingly quiet was now filled with warmth—the sound of their voices, the clatter of utensils, the scent of home-cooked food.
I kept checking the newspapers, desperate to find something—anything—about the alley murder. But there was nothing. Not a single word. And that's what terrified me the most… how easily he could erase a life like it never existed.
Grandma, as expected, had taken over my small kitchen the moment she walked in. The rich aroma of spices—turmeric, cumin, and cardamom—swirled in the air, wrapping me in a comforting embrace.
"Grandma, you don't have to cook today. You should rest," I said, trying to take the spatula from her.
She swatted my hand away with the grace of someone who had done it a thousand times before. "Nonsense, honey. I'm sure you've been longing for my chicken curry."
She was right. I had been.
I wrapped my arms around her, resting my head against her shoulder, inhaling her familiar scent—one that reminded me of long-forgotten days, of safety, of love.
For a moment, I allowed myself to sink into it, to pretend that everything was okay.
Then, the door creaked open.
I turned sharply, my heart jumping to my throat before I saw Kevin leaning against the doorframe, his signature smirk firmly in place.
"Sorry for the disturbance, ladies. I'm taking my leave."
"Oh no, Kevin," Grandma said, waving a wooden spoon at him. "You're not leaving without eating. My chicken curry and rice are heaven."
Kevin chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "If you insist, Granny, who am I to refuse heaven?"
Dinner was filled with laughter, but beneath the warmth, something tugged at me.
An odd, lingering unease.
I kept brushing it aside, convincing myself it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but the feeling persisted—a quiet, unsettling weight pressing down on my chest.
Several times, I found myself glancing toward the window, expecting to see something, someone. But there was nothing except the dark street and the faint flicker of a streetlamp.
I shook my head.
I was just being paranoid.
After dinner, Kevin stood up to leave. I walked him to the door, needing the fresh air as much as I needed the familiar comfort of his presence.
We stood outside under the soft glow of the streetlights. The night air was crisp, but for some reason, it did little to chase away the chill running down my spine.
"Angel, you look truly happy today," Kevin said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
I smiled, but it felt forced. "I am. For the first time in a while, I feel like I belong somewhere again."
He studied me for a moment before placing a hand on my shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. "You always belong, Alina."
I rolled my eyes, pushing his hand away playfully. "Enough with the emotional talk, Mr. Dramatic."
He chuckled before pulling me into a quick hug. "Goodnight, Angel."
"Goodnight, Kev."
As he walked away, I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing my palms against the goosebumps rising on my skin.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
The unease returned, curling around my spine like an unseen force. The night felt heavier than usual, the air thick with something I couldn't name.
I turned my head, eyes scanning the darkened street, the parked cars, the empty sidewalk.
Nothing.
But the feeling remained.
Someone was watching me.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to move, stepping back into my apartment and locking the door behind me. I flicked the deadbolt twice, just to be sure.
I leaned against the door, exhaling shakily.
Then, a sound.
A whisper of air. A shift in the atmosphere.
A memory slammed into me like a tidal wave.
The alley.
The blood.
The body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
The eyes—lifeless, wide, staring right at me.
A gasp tore from my throat as my body stiffened, my vision blurring.
No. No.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the image was burned into my mind.
The knife slicing through flesh.
The way the man had begged, his voice trembling, raw with agony.
And then—him.
The figure in the shadows.
Tall. Unmoving. Cold.
I had never seen his face. But I had seen his eyes.
They were the color of the abyss, holding no emotion, no hesitation.
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, feeling my heart hammering like it wanted to break free from my ribs.
I couldn't breathe.
Sweat trickled down my spine, my knees nearly buckling beneath me.
He had been there.
He had seen me.
And now—was he watching me again?
A shiver racked my body as I slowly turned my head, my gaze landing on the window.
For a fraction of a second, I swore I saw movement.
A shadow shifting.
A presence lurking.
My breath hitched. My skin prickled.
I stumbled backward, heart pounding so violently I thought it might burst.
No. I was imagining things.
I had to be.
Shaking, I grabbed my phone with numb fingers and called Kevin.
He picked up on the first ring. "Alina?"
"I—" My voice cracked. "Kevin, can you… can you stay on the phone with me for a bit?"
Silence. Then, his voice, softer this time. "Angel, are you okay?"
I squeezed my eyes shut. "I just… I don't want to be alone."
There was no hesitation in his response. "I'm coming back."
"No!" My voice came out too sharp, too desperate.
Silence stretched between us.
"Alina," Kevin's voice was cautious now, his concern thick. "Why not?"
I forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. "Because you're probably I don't want to be responsible for you falling asleep in the middle of the road."
"I don't care about that." His voice was firm. "I can be there in ten minutes."
Panic twisted in my gut. If he came… what if he was watching…
I couldn't let Kevin get involved.
"I'm fine, Kev," I whispered, gripping the phone tighter. "Just… talk to me for a while."
His sigh came through the speaker, long and reluctant. "Are you sure?"
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Yes."
"Okay," he said quietly. "Then I'll stay on the phone for as long as you need."
I closed my eyes, the tension in my chest loosening just a little.
But outside, beyond the glass, the darkness pulsed.
Like it was breathing.
Like it was waiting.
Damon's POV
She felt me.
I could see it in the way her body tensed, the way her fingers shook as she held her phone.
She remembered.
Yet she still refused help.
A slow smirk curled my lips.
Good.
She was learning.
She knew no one could protect her.
Not even him.
I leaned against the car, my eyes fixed on her trembling form.
She could lock the doors. She could lie to her friends.
But she would never escape me.
I would make sure of it.
I watched her for another long moment before stepping back into the shadows, whispering a single promise to the night.
"Soon baby girl".