Elias toweled off slowly, letting the residual heat from the shower sink into his skin. The wardrobe in the guest room had already been stocked, someone had thought ahead, or more likely, Victor had ordered it without comment.
A neat stack of folded clothes waited on a low bench near the bed. Dark jeans, a soft gray shirt, and a cardigan so fine it might as well have been spun from shadow and air. He dressed without hurry, the fabric brushing cool against his skin, sleeves fitting just a little too perfectly.
He paused at the mirror, fingers brushing his damp hair back from his forehead.
The person looking back at him felt different, tired, sharpened at the edges by everything that had happened in the last four days. Danger, obsession, safety that felt like a gilded cage… and Victor, always Victor, with his steady voice and hidden truths.
