That night, a sound jerked Celeste awake.
Something scraped against her door.
She crept into the hall, the floorboards biting her bare feet. A shadow flickered at the corridor's end—too tall, too still—before vanishing around the corner.
She ran.
Her shoulder slammed into a solid chest. Alaric gripped her arms, his pupils dilated in the dark.
"There was someone—" she panted.
"You shouldn't roam at night," he interrupted.
"And you shouldn't treat me like a child!"
His grip tightened. "You're not a child," he murmured. "That's what makes you dangerous."
The air between them crackled.
Then—a distant click. A door swinging open.
Alaric shoved her behind him. "Stay close."