The manor slept, but Elena couldn't. She lay awake, eyes fixed on the carved ceiling, every creak of wood and rustle of curtains tugging at her nerves.
Adrian had left the room hours ago, but his presence lingered like smoke in her lungs. She could still hear his words: "You just need to live in mine."
Her chest tightened. Was she really living—or just surviving under his shadow?
Unable to bear the silence, she slipped from the bed and padded down the hall. The candles lining the corridor burned low, their light barely piercing the velvet dark. The air was thick, almost humming with unseen life.
She should have turned back. But something—maybe curiosity, maybe recklessness—kept her moving.
Then she heard it.
A voice. Low, rasping. Not Adrian's.
"Elena…"
Her blood froze. She spun, heart hammering, but the hallway was empty. Shadows curled along the walls, too thick, too alive.
"Elena…" The whisper slithered again, closer this time, brushing against her ear.
She stumbled back, her hand slamming against the wall for balance. "Who's there?"
No answer—only laughter. Cold, cruel, inhuman.
And then—silence.
"Elena."
This time, the voice wasn't distant. It was behind her.
Before she could scream, a hand clamped down on her wrist, pulling her away from the wall of shadows.
Adrian.
His grip was firm, his expression carved in ice. "I told you not to wander."
Her breath shook. "I—I heard something. It called my name—"
"I know," he cut her off, eyes burning as they scanned the hall. The shadows writhed in answer to his command, hissing as if shielding her from something unseen.
"What was that?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"A reminder." His voice was quiet, deadly. "That the dark isn't empty. It listens. It waits. And it wants you."
Her pulse stuttered. "Why me?"
His gaze snapped to hers, fierce and unyielding. "Because you're mine."
For a moment, the world held its breath. Then Adrian pulled her against him, his arms wrapping around her as though daring the darkness itself to reach for her again.
"You don't need to understand," he murmured into her hair. "You only need to trust me. Do you?"
Elena's throat was dry, but she nodded, too shaken to speak.
Adrian's arms tightened, his lips brushing the crown of her head. "Good. Then sleep, little one. Let the shadows guard you. Nothing will touch you while I breathe."
But as his words wrapped around her, Elena couldn't shake the memory of that other voice—cold, mocking, and far too familiar.
And somewhere deep in the dark, it laughed again.