The bungalow was silent in a way that felt intentional.
Not peaceful.
Not empty.
Waiting.
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a silk robe that did nothing to stop the cold crawling over her skin. The lights were on, every single one, flooding the room with expensive brightness. Crystal lamps. Wall sconces. Ceiling LEDs.
Still, the corners of the room looked darker than they should.
Oliver stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear, whispering urgently. No signal. Again. He lowered the phone slowly, his jaw tightening.
"There's no network," he said. "Not even emergency."
Amelia nodded numbly. "He does that."
Oliver turned sharply. "Does what?"
"Cuts me off," she said, her voice hollow. "From everyone. From the world. He likes it when it's just us."
The temperature dropped.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Oliver felt it this time—his breath fogging faintly, the air turning heavy, thick enough to press against his lungs.
"Sebastian," Oliver said, loud and steady. "Enough."
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The bedroom door creaked.
Slowly.
Amelia's nails dug into the mattress. "Don't open it," she whispered. "Please."
The door stopped halfway.
A shadow slid through the gap, stretching unnaturally across the marble floor. It did not belong to any body.
Then Sebastian stepped in.
He was clearer now. More defined. Almost solid. His shoes made a sound against the floor—soft, deliberate. His eyes locked onto Amelia immediately, ignoring Oliver entirely.
"You're shaking," Sebastian said gently. "He's scaring you."
Oliver stepped forward. "Get away from her."
Sebastian glanced at him, amused. "You're still here."
Before Oliver could react, the door slammed shut behind Sebastian.
The lock twisted.
Oliver rushed for it, yanking the handle.
It didn't move.
The room dimmed as if someone had lowered an invisible dial. Shadows pooled around Sebastian's feet, crawling up his legs like smoke.
"Stop this," Oliver said through clenched teeth. "You're hurting her."
Sebastian smiled slowly. "I'm reminding her."
He turned back to Amelia and took a step closer.
Amelia scrambled backward until her spine hit the headboard. "Don't," she cried. "You promised—"
Sebastian's expression flickered. Hurt. Rage. Then calm.
"I promised I'd never leave you," he said. "Not that I wouldn't change."
He reached out.
This time, his hand didn't pass through her.
His fingers closed around her wrist.
Amelia screamed.
The cold was unbearable—sharp, invasive, flooding her veins. Images exploded in her mind.
Sebastian alive.
Sebastian bleeding.
Sebastian dying on wet asphalt, eyes wide, mouth forming her name.
She collapsed forward, gasping.
Oliver charged.
He grabbed Sebastian's arm—
And was thrown backward like a rag doll.
Oliver hit the wall hard, pain flashing white behind his eyes. He slid to the floor, struggling to breathe.
Sebastian didn't even look at him.
He crouched in front of Amelia, gripping her wrist firmly now.
"Do you feel it?" he whispered. "That pull?"
Amelia sobbed, shaking her head. "I don't want this. I don't want you."
Sebastian's face darkened.
"You said that before," he said softly. "Right before you left."
The room began to change.
Walls stretched.
Ceiling rose too high.
The bed shrank beneath Amelia, making her feel small—trapped.
Oliver pushed himself up, grabbing the heavy marble lamp from the bedside table. He hurled it.
It passed straight through Sebastian's head.
The lamp shattered against the far wall.
Sebastian laughed.
A deep, broken sound that echoed unnaturally.
"You can't hurt me like that," he said. "But I can hurt you."
He lifted his free hand.
Oliver felt his chest tighten violently. He gasped, clawing at his throat as invisible pressure crushed his lungs. His vision blurred, dark spots blooming.
"Stop!" Amelia screamed. "Please!"
Sebastian froze.
Slowly, he turned to look at her.
The pressure released. Oliver collapsed, coughing violently.
Sebastian's voice softened again, dangerously intimate. "Say my name."
Amelia shook her head, tears streaming.
"Say it," he insisted.
Her lips trembled. "…Sebastian."
The bungalow shuddered.
Lights burst. Glass cracked. Somewhere downstairs, something heavy fell.
Sebastian smiled like a man who had just been forgiven.
"That's all I wanted," he whispered.
He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers.
"I can wait," he said. "But he can't."
His eyes flicked toward Oliver.
"And neither can you."
Sebastian stood and stepped backward, his body dissolving into shadow.
The pressure vanished. The room snapped back to normal.
Lights stabilized.
Silence returned.
Oliver crawled to Amelia, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably.
"He touched me," she whispered. "He can touch me now."
Oliver's face hardened.
"That means he's getting stronger."
Amelia looked up at him, eyes filled with terror. "He's not going to stop."
Oliver nodded grimly. "No."
Downstairs, the front door unlocked by itself.
Slowly.
Invitingly.
And in the hallway mirror, a dark figure smiled.