Chapter 04—When the Darkness Looked Back at Me

The rain has slowed to a nervous drizzle, tapping weakly against the shop window. Streetlights smear pale streaks across the wet asphalt, turning everything outside into a half-lit painting. It could be a normal evening.

It could be.

It isn’t.

Damon sits on the stool by my workbench, back against the wall, eyes half closed. The bandage I wrapped around his side is rough work, but it’s holding—for now. Somehow my own skin throbs in the same place, like my body has decided to echo his pain.

“How are you feeling?” I ask quietly.

He cracks one eye open.

“Good enough.”

It’s a lie.

He knows it.

I know it.

But he delivers it with the calm of someone who stopped listening to his own truth a long time ago.

I stand close to him, my hands still shaking from the adrenaline. Time feels wrong in here—too fast, too slow, breathing on the wrong beat.

“You should stay seated,” I murmur.

“I am sitting,” he replies, the faintest hint of humor slipping through.

I can’t help it—I smile.

Just for a second.

Then something metallic crashes outside.

Damon is instantly alert.

More alert than any injured man has a right to be. His hands clamp down on the edge of the stool, his gaze sharpening, hard and focused.

“What was that?” I whisper.

“Someone’s out there.”

It isn’t a guess.

It’s certainty.

I move carefully toward the window, peering through a curtain of leaves and flowers. The street lies in dim half-light. Nothing moves. No cars. No late pedestrians.

“I don’t see anyone.”

“You don’t hear what I hear.”

My pulse spikes. “What do you hear?”

His eyes flick to the door.

“Someone trying very hard not to be heard.”

A cold shiver crawls down my spine.

“We have to get you out of here,” he says suddenly, attempting to stand.

I catch him by the arm. “You’re injured.”

“That’s not relevant.”

“It is,” I insist.

He looks at me—really looks—eyes warning and reassuring at the same time, as if the truth lives somewhere between the two.

“Ava… if they come back, they can’t find you here.”

“They?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

That pause is worse than any word.

“The men who are after me,” he says at last, voice low. “They haven’t stopped looking.”

Ice settles under my skin.

“Why?”

“Because they think I owe them something I can never give.”

Before I can ask what that means, a shadow glides across the shop window.

Damon tenses.

“Step away from the glass,” he whispers.

I back away, slow, trying not to make a sound.

The shadow stops.

A man.

Too tall, too still, too aware.

Suddenly Damon’s hand finds mine. Warm. Firm. Uncompromising.

“We’re leaving,” he says.

“Where?” My voice comes out thinner than I’d like.

“Somewhere they won’t find us right away.”

“And who is he?” I ask, staring at the figure outside.

Damon’s jaw tightens. “Someone who’s been watching you.”

The floor seems to shift beneath me.

“How… long?”

“Long enough that I didn’t notice him the first time.” A bitter spark flashes in his eyes. “That doesn’t happen to me often.”

Outside, the man lifts his hand. A slow, deliberate gesture.

I go cold.

“He knows we’re here,” I murmur.

“What… does he want?”

“You.”

My throat closes.

“Damon…”

“Don’t panic,” he says softly, tugging me further back. “Panic won’t get us out.”

Then, just for a second, the man tilts his head. I see what might be a smile.

It doesn’t look human.

Damon squeezes my hand.

“We go now.”

He cracks the back door open and listens.

Nothing.

He turns back to me. “Ava?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me. No matter what.”

I nod.

And we step out into the night.