A soft knock echoed on the bedroom door.
That was it—just a knock. But the silence that followed hit like a loaded gun sliding across a glass table in a room full of ghosts.
It came soft.
Just a knock.
Barely there, like it hadn't meant to interrupt. Like it was apologizing for existing.
But in that room—fortified by soul-seals that could strangle gods, chaos runes carved with Parker's own blood, and layers of existential foldings that bent reality into knots—it sounded like a gunshot to the spine. Like death knocking politely instead of kicking down the door.
Four heads turned toward the bedroom door with the synchronized precision of predators sensing prey.
Tessa blinked, brows lifted in innocent confusion, still caught between tired, sex, sensation and wakefulness.
But Parker, Maya, and Zhang Ruoyun?
