Bloodbath (Order of the Unseen #4)

Chapter Nine

Quinn

THREE DAYS LATER

C lutching the pillow to my chest, I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing my racing thoughts. I just want to sleep. I try to count sheep but that fails to work.

Damn you, sheep.

And damn you, too, sleep.

Damien’s been gone for days, but the scent of his cologne still lingers on his bed sheets. I bury my nose into his pillowcase, breathing him in, my stomach in knots. Why won’t he come home to me?

The second I roll onto his side of the bed, fighting away tears, a body crawls into bed beside me.

“Damien?” I question, my eyes lighting up the second I see his mask. “Damien!”

My heart drums wildly as I embrace him tightly.

“Where have you been?”

He cups my breasts with his gloved hands, my nipples puckering beneath the gentle touch of his thumbs. I moan quietly, taking in the blissful sensations of him caressing my body as I stare into the pitch-black eyes. God, I’ve missed him so much.

His hand grazes down the length of my side, caressing the curve of my hips. I lean in closer, inhaling the scent of his new cologne. It’s invigorating, embodying depth and ruggedness.

He grips my ass harshly, causing a soft wince to escape my lips.

“Don’t ever leave us again,” I whisper, tracing my fingertips along the plastic contours of his mask. He cocks his head to the side, gauging my reaction as he inches closer.

The moment I run my hand down his chest, his body stiffens ever so slightly. My breathing picks up at the sensation of his cold, leather glove caressing my bare skin. I trail my hand further down his chest, resting my palm against his crotch. He grows hard, and I can hear the heavy breath that leaves his lips.

Pulling up the robe he’s wearing, I sneak my fingers beneath the hem of his pants, when suddenly, he catches my wrist, keeping me in place. His grip is so tight it’s painful.

“Please,” I beg, barely any sound to my voice. “I want to feel you.” I try to break free from his grasp, failing miserably. He clasps his fingers around my wrist even tighter at my attempt, getting a shocked whimper out of me in response. “I need to feel you—”

He rolls me onto my other side so I’m facing away from him. His touch is as light as a feather. He caresses my skin from my shoulder, to my collarbone, to my breasts and downward, his fingertips lingering over the scars on my hip.

Memories come flooding back to me as he traces the initials tenderly, spelling out each letter.

DS.

MH.

JP.

“Please,” I breathe softly, spreading my legs eagerly.

His bare hand slips between my thighs, his fingers pushing my panties to the side. I’m so wet, trembling against him as I arch my back, writhing against his touch. He works my clit in slow, precise circles, and the warmth of his touch sends me spiraling. I fight the moans that demand to break free, biting the pillow to silence myself.

But this feels so unbearably good.

It’s almost too much.

He teases my entrance, and when he sinks two fingers inside of me, a breathy moan becomes trapped in the back of my throat. He pushes into me again and again, the roughness of his palm rubbing against my swollen flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.

Oh God, I can feel the orgasm building within me.

He quickens his pace, pumping his fingers into my wetness again and again. I squirm against him, his mask nuzzled in the crook of my neck. The vibrating of my phone against my nightstand takes me by surprise, but I ignore it entirely.

I’m almost there. I’m so close.

“Yes!” I let out a choked sob before his free hand cups my mouth, silencing me.

His demeanor is different tonight; his touch is aggressive. As soon as my inner walls begin to spasm around his fingers, he becomes still, toying with me. I grind myself against his hand, demanding more, and although he’s no longer thrusting, the feeling of his fingers curling this deep inside of me tips me over the edge.

I come intensely, biting down on his gloved hand, drooling, shaking, and breathing hard. He pushes his crotch against my ass, his large erection reminding me of how badly he craves me. Only then does he pick up where he left off, working his fingers inside of me, stroking my walls in all the right places. I see stars behind my eyelids, my body tingling as another wave of my climax rushes toward me. I explode around him, grinding my clit against his palm.

My phone vibrates again.

And again.

But I’m unable to move. I’ve become completely overtaken with exhaustion. Relief.

When I finally catch my breath, and come down from the best high I’ve felt in a while, he releases me. Lowering his hand from my mouth and removing his hand from between my legs, he pulls away without warning. He stands, fixing his gaze on me as I stare up at him fearfully.

“Wait,” I rush out, completely flustered. It’s too dark in here. I can no longer see his face. “Are you leaving?”

The vibration from my nightstand distracts me once more. Growling out in annoyance, I reach for my phone and my heart immediately drops.

Damien .

When I turn back to the stranger standing at my bedside, a dark realization sets in.

It’s the red mask with devil horns.

He lunges onto the bed, his hands reaching for my throat. I scream out in horror.

Suddenly, my cries pull me from my sleep. I’m covered in sweat, my body raging with adrenaline as I stumble back into reality. Early morning light filters through the window, and just like the last few days, this empty bed reminds me of Damien’s absence.

Apollo storms into the room, practically tripping, eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Asher follows in after him, searching the room in a panic.

I sigh. “It was just a nightmare.”

The two of them look at me silently, pondering their response. I hug my knees to my chest and gaze out the window, sadness and frustration bubbling inside me. Asher draws the curtains further to the side and rests his palm against the glass.

“Sorry,” Apollo says, observing me from the corner of the room. It almost seems like he’s nervous to approach me. “My cousin can be a bit… uh… what’s the word…”

“Impulsive,” Asher finishes for him. “Hotheaded. Unpredictable.”

“Yeah. All of the above.”

“A liar,” I add, nonchalantly. “I appreciate you both looking after me. Really, I do. But why aren’t Jensen and Micah here with me? Why have you both been appointed my babysitters?”

“I’d prefer bodyguards, if anything,” Asher mumbles, eyeing me.

Forcing a bitter laugh, I crawl out of bed, their gazes fixed on my every movement. “No offense, but I’m really tired of this.”

Apollo steps forward, brows furrowed. “Are you going somewhere?”

I stop dead in my tracks to glare at them. “To the bathroom. Is that okay?”

“Listen, Quinn,” Asher blurts out, “you have every right to be upset—”

“I know I do. Nobody is telling me anything, at least not giving me any real answers. I’ve barely seen or spoken to my boyfriends. They keep telling me Damien is in trouble and they’re looking out for him. I get that, but I feel like I’m trapped here. My friends keep asking where I am. Even though I’ve answered, nobody has seen me. I haven’t left this apartment in three days. I’m going crazy.”

“It’s for good reason,” Apollo states.

Asher shoots a hasty glare in his direction.

“Well, your good reason can eat my ass,” I tell them, retrieving a clean towel from behind the door and storming into the hallway. “Leave me alone.”

They follow closely in my trail, ignoring my request.

“Please stop following me. I’m taking a shower and then I’m going to get ready for the day,” I explain before turning to face them. They back up slightly the moment they see the irritation in my eyes. “Oh, are you both going to join me? I doubt Jensen and Micah want you to see me naked.”

“Nope,” Asher answers without hesitation. “Not interested in getting my ass kicked.”

“I’d rather gouge my own eyes out, save them the trouble,” Apollo replies sarcastically. “Plus, you’re not my type.”

Asher smirks at his brother.

“Good. Then go away.” I shut the door in his face.

“You can’t leave, Quinn,” Apollo calls out.

“I’m not a prisoner!” I argue, slamming a closed fist on the door.

The audacity these two have.

Once I’m dressed, I make myself a cup of coffee, only to realize there’s no cream or sugar anywhere in the kitchen. Jensen calls while I’m digging through cabinets and drawers.

Even though I’m angry and fed up, I answer immediately. “Do you have cream or sugar hidden anywhere?”

“I don’t think so—”

“Did you find him?”

“Not yet—”

“Alright. I’m going to class.” I end the call.

His name flashes on my phone once more. I bitch button him after the second ring and decide to text the group chat I have with my sorority sisters instead.

“I can run to Dunks,” Asher offers.

“I’m going to meet a friend at the coffee shop on campus, actually,” I reply with a smug grin. “Again, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can take care of myself now.”

“Okay. We’ll come with.”

“No, thanks. I’ll take it from here,” I say, grabbing my bag and heading toward the front door, only to find Apollo already in position and waiting for me outside. “What the hell?”

“Where to?” he questions, his tone childlike.

“What do you mean where to?” I ask bitterly. “I don’t know where you’re going, but I’m going to grab some coffee with a friend.”

He nods. “Sounds great. We ran out of sugar.”

“I’m aware, Apollo,” I mutter with a sigh, walking down the front steps and toward the driveway. He takes slow strides, ensuring he stays close beside me. “What are you doing?”

With a frown, he shrugs. “Getting coffee?”

“I can go alone.”

“No need.”

“I want to go alone,” I reiterate.

Asher unexpectedly appears on the other side of me. “Not happening.”

“What in the fuck,” I snarl, running my hands through my hair in frustration. “I was planning on walking. I could really use some fresh air. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Are you sure?” Asher asks. “It’s cold as shit outside.”

My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket.

Jenna : Sure! I’m already here waiting. Hurry up, bitch

“Fine,” I groan. “Let’s go.”

Apollo opens the passenger side door for me and I climb into the Jeep.

Jenna frowns, her gaze on the twins standing just outside the coffee shop, hovering at the front door with squared shoulders and crossed arms, appearing on guard. “Who the hell are they?” she asks.

“Damien’s cousins.”

“Do they go to school here or something?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are they here? Are they waiting for you?”

“You have a lot of questions, and I’m exhausted,” I murmur, taking my usual cup of coffee from the barista with an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Jenna inquires as we sit down at a booth towards the back. I’d like to get as far out of their sight as possible. “Oops. Look at me, asking another question.”

“It’s been a shitty last few days.”

“Why haven’t you been home at all? We’ve been worried about you.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that. I’ve been texting you all back, though.”

“Well, yeah, but someone could easily have been using your phone and pretending to be you or something.”

“I told you all about the creepy guys who were looking into my window the other night. It seriously freaked me out.”

She nods in understanding. “I get it. I would’ve been freaked out, too. The frat guys really need to stop playing pranks on us. We’re all on edge lately.”

“Pranks or not, my boyfriends were just being overly protective.”

“Maybe you’re next,” she casually points out.

Blinking at her, unsure how to even respond to a statement like that, I tightly curl my fingers around my cup.

Her eyes enlarge with panic. “I’m kidding, Quinn,” she says swiftly, reaching across the table and placing her hand on mine. “Babe. Come on. You’re not next. I know things are scary right now, but I bet it’s just a coincidence that two girls went missing at once. I’m sure they’ll turn up soon.”

“You say the most unhinged shit sometimes.”

“You know I have really dark humor. It helps me get through life. I promise I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know, I know,” I sigh, rubbing my tired eyes. “God. I’m a mess. I don’t mean to be such a nervous wreck. I have so much going on.”

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know.”

“I mean it.” She caresses the back of my hand with her thumb. “I know I’m the crazy bitch in the friend group, but I really do care about you.”

“I care about you, too.”

“Then talk to me.”

The temptation to spill everything is there, however something inside me worries about how she would react if I revealed the truth. Most friends can share things with one another, details of their relationship, both good and bad. But I think it would be challenging for me to tell her my deepest secrets. How could I explain how I feel like I’m being lied to without being judged? Especially considering my own judgment has begun to feel clouded.

I’ve never been this girl before.

Looking past so many red flags, so easily.

How would I even begin to tell Jenna that the three men she warned me about really do hurt people? I don’t think that conversation would go very well, so here I am, left to decipher my own thoughts… alone.

“Thanks, Jenna,” I say with a forced grin, drawing my hand back and fidgeting with both hands in my lap. “I’m okay. I’m just being paranoid.”

Am I?

Or am I just finally opening my eyes?

“Alright,” she sighs with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “If there’s anything I can do to help make you feel better, let me know.”

Suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb turns on in my head.

“This is going to sound weird,” I begin.

“Hit me.”

“Do you remember the pig's head that was left on our doorstep?” I ask her cautiously.

With an attentive nod, Jenna leans forward. “Yeah?”

“There was a symbol carved into it, wasn’t there?”

Her brows furrow. “I don’t remember that.”

“Come on,” I urge. “Just think.”

“I mean, maybe? I’m not sure.”

“There was. I know there was. I remember noticing how fucking creepy it looked, like whoever it was that left it there carved that specific marking for a reason ,” I tell her firmly. “It has to mean something. That could be important.”

“I guess,” she mutters, looking at me like I have ten heads. “Or it could be completely unrelated.”

“I… think it might have been a pentagram?”

“Possibly.”

“I’m almost positive.”

She hums quietly, pursing her lips. “Yeah,” she eventually agrees. “I think you’re right. It did look like a pentagram. But what exactly does this have to do with anything?”

“I’m not sure. At least not yet.”

Jenna accompanies me to the library on campus, but to my disbelief, it’s locked. Taped to the large wooden doors is a white sheet of paper with the words “temporarily closed.”

“Strange,” I murmur. “I wonder why.”

Two students walking by happen to chime into our conversation. “I guess a few pipes in the ceiling burst,” one of them explains. “The place flooded overnight. Should be opening back up tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Got it. Thanks,” I tell them.

They begin to walk away until the second student quickly faces us once more. “Oh, I almost forgot,” they blurt out, retrieving something from their pocket. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

I frown.

They hand me a small folded note and walk down the hall.

Once I see what it says, I become frozen.

You’re supposed to say who’s there

Paranoia creeps up on me as I remember back to finding the note on my pillow. It’s the same paper. Same ink. Same handwriting.

“Wait!” I shout, bolting down the hallway and chasing after the student who gave it to me.

They appear startled when I catch up to them, rightfully so, and Jenna does, too.

“Who gave this to you? Where did they go?” I begin to interrogate, almost incoherently. “Can you describe what they looked like? Did they say anything?”

They gawk at me. “Uh,” they mumble, staring at me like I’m crazy. “It was some guy. He paid me fifty bucks. It was easy money and I have a ton of student debt from this shithole—”

“What did he look like?” I interrupt, desperate for answers.

“Quinn,” Jenna scolds. “Sorry, my friend is going through some stuff right now. She doesn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” they reply. “Um, he was really tall. Black hair. Oh, yeah. He had, what do they call them, husky eyes?”

“Husky eyes?” I ask.

“Yeah, when they’re such a light blue they almost look see through. He had pretty dark lashes. Kind of looked like he was wearing mascara—”

Damien .

“Tons of tattoos,” they add in. “I don’t know. It was just some guy. I’ve never met him before. His request seemed innocent enough—”

“So he told you to give this to me specifically?”

“Yup. Even pointed you out.”

My body kicks into fight or flight mode as I search the area frantically. “W-what… like, just now?”

They step backward, creating more distance between us. “A few minutes ago.”

“Quinn,” Jenna says, her voice shaky. “Are you good?”

My heart races. I swallow.

“Can… can I go now, or?”

I continue to scan my surroundings, completely on edge.

“Yes, you can go,” Jenna answers for me. “Thanks for your help. Sorry to bother you.”

With that, they scurry away.

“Some guy is passing you notes?” she asks suspiciously. “What does it say? You look super freaked out and it’s freaking me out.”

I slip the note into my pocket and dig out my phone from my purse, searching “pentagram.”

“Quinn?” she questions.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“No. You aren’t.” She looks over my shoulder. “You’re zoomed in on photos of pentagrams. What do pentagrams have to do with anything?”

“It was this one. The one that’s upside down.”

She grabs my shoulder in a lousy attempt to snap me out of it. “Okay, now you’re really starting to worry me.”

“This is why I wanted to go to the library,” I quickly explain. “Maybe this is all connected—”

“What’s connected?”

Giving her an annoyed stare, I bite my tongue. As much as I appreciate having her tag along with me, at this moment, I’d much rather be alone. I need to focus. Damien has disappeared. Jensen and Micah are hiding something from me. For the last few months, I’ve had the feeling of being watched. Girls have suddenly gone missing.

Three figures were standing outside my window the other night, and I can’t help but feel like maybe I’m the center of it all. If nobody else will tell me what the hell is going on, then I need to figure it out myself.

The worrisome expression plastered on my friend’s face has me questioning whether or not I’m losing my shit. Yet, deep down, something in my gut is encouraging me to keep digging, no matter what anyone thinks.

“I’ll see you later, Jenna,” I blurt out, walking quickly in the other direction.

“Hey! Where are you going?” she calls out from behind me.

I continue to take long strides over to where Asher and Apollo are waiting. As irritated as I am with the two of them following me all over campus, I approach them with a determined grin.

Apollo sips his coffee.

Asher smirks down at me, cocking his head to the side. “Going to yell at us some more?”

“Nope,” I say. “I actually wanted to ask for a favor.”

Apollo narrows his eyes.

God, the two of them look so much like Damien. My heart twinges at the thought.

“Can you walk me back to my sorority?”

Asher folds his arms over his chest, looking at me suspiciously. “Don’t you have class?”

With a deep breath, I straighten my posture. “I’m ditching.”

“That’s unlike you,” Apollo mumbles.

“How would you know?” I challenge. He shrugs before clearing his throat. “I need my laptop. I have to… study.”

“Study,” they reply in unison.

“Yes. Study.”

“You can’t stay there,” Apollo states.

“You can take me back to their place after,” I reply innocently. “I just need to grab my laptop. Please. It’s important.”

The twins look at one another before meeting my eyes once more.

“Okay,” they say.

After locking myself in Damien’s room and hours of research on pentagrams and the missing girls cases, I’ve come to one conclusion.

I don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to what the hell is going on in Salem.

But there’s one theory that stands out the most.

There’s a cult of killers in this town.

It sounds insane, but it could be the link to everything that’s been happening. I get the brief urge to call it into the tip line, but decide not to.

I continue my deep investigation on the internet and go through several forums dedicated to this theory. Apparently, there have been many missing person cases over the years. These instances have several common connections.

Women.

Symbols carved into the head of a pig.

And… a full moon.

Micah

“Will you answer the goddamn phone, jackass?” I demand, practically shouting into the void since Jensen has also seemed to have disappeared over the last two hours.

The sun has already dipped below the horizon. I pace the empty park beneath the muted lamplight, blowing warm air into my icy hands. Damien’s on a bench off in the distance, finally sleeping. Will he sleep it off?

Probably fucking not.

It’s been a wild last few days and I’ve barely slept myself. A cold, gentle breeze rustles the dead leaves on the crystalized ground. A tall silhouette comes into my view at the end of the pathway, walking through the empty swing sets and playground.

I know it’s Jensen.

Instead of being relieved that he has finally shown up, I catch myself bubbling with anger and resentment.

“Hey,” he says quietly once he reaches me.

I glare coldly at him. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

“Come on, man,” he groans under his breath. “I’ve had my hands so full. I’m tired.”

“Oh, you’re tired,” I smugly question, spitting on the ground beside his boots. “You’re not the only one who is fucking tired, Jensen.”

“Don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” I echo, giving him a good shove, watching as he stumbles back, his eyes filling with rage. “Fuck you.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“You have your head so far up Killian’s ass, it’s pathetic!”

“This is what we agreed to, Micah,” he snaps back at me, his lips pressed into a firm straight line. “You’re the one that decided on it. That I’d step into Damien’s position in the Order while you look after him.”

“You're so busy you couldn’t answer my call?”

“I was here, getting out of the car,” he argues, laughing. “Jesus Christ. You’re like a toddler when you don’t get your way.”

“You’ve barely talked to me. I’ve been seeing the most awful fucking shit, things I will never talk about, or think about, things I wouldn’t—I couldn’t,” I stutter anxiously, my heart pounding forcefully in my ribcage, limbs still trembling with left over adrenaline.

He reaches for me, but I jump back, planting my hands on the back of my head in distress.

“Micah, I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t realize you were having such a hard time.”

“He’s finally passed out. You can go now.”

“No.”

“Just fucking leave. I got this. He’s fine. I’m fine. Sorry I called.”

“Have you slept at all?”

I snort. “Like you care.”

“Damn right I care,” he responds angrily, studying my face closely. “That’s why I’ve been sending people to tag you out, but you keep sending them back. You’re not letting anyone help you.”

“I’m not fucking leaving him.” I look over my shoulder and find relief when I confirm Damien is in the same spot.

“You don’t have to leave him, but shit, man, shut your eyes for a few minutes here and there. Let us help. Get some rest or you’re going to slip up.”

“I’m not going to slip up. I have energy.”

He arches a brow. “Are you manic right now?”

I'm annoyed at being micromanaged, but I know it just means he cares, “No. I wish I was. I’m running on energy drinks and nicotine. I said I’m fine. Don’t act like you suddenly give a shit. You’re busy. Go do orderly things.”

“Micah,” he groans, pulling me into him.

For a second, I give in, my body dissolving against his. My legs feel like Jell-O. My arms feel so goddamn weak. My knees are shaky. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I breathe him in. My pulse begins to slow its sporadic beating, finding a steady rhythm and calmness I haven’t felt in days. We embrace each other closely, soaking in each other’s body warmth beneath the twinkling night sky, while our friend rests on a cold, hard bench… struggling.

Battling his inner demons… all on his own.

Pushing Jensen away, I shake my head in denial, the bitter air nipping at my skin.

“I pissed you off, and for that, I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I got caught up in my own shit and haven’t been here for you. I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. How many times do you want me to say it?”

“You’ve been real close with Killian, though, haven’t you?”

“What?”

“Are you fucking him?”

“Hell no.” I swallow. “Wait a second. Is that what this is about?” he accuses, raising his voice. “You’re upset I’ve been spending more time with Killian? You’re jealous ?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap, guarded, as an icy gust of air sweeps through us.

He laughs.

I grimace at him while he does it, taken by surprise.

“Yeah, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you like the back of my hand.”

I force an unimpressed laugh. “Do you?”

“You’re jealous. Jealous, and an idiot.”

“Oh, fuck you, Jensen,” I scoff, pressing a firm finger on his sternum while staring into his eyes furiously. “The other night, I told you how I feel, and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. Just stop being a coward and fucking tell me.”

“You’re fucking stupid.” He leans into my touch, our faces only inches apart, his breath fanning my lips. “I’m balls deep in love with you. What are you talking about?”

My jaw drops.

“I thought that was really fucking obvious,” he continues, his gaze locked with mine, conveying passion and sincerity. “I thought I didn’t have to say it. But here. I’ll say it again. I’ll scream it into the abyss if you want me to.” He aggressively takes my face between his hands. “I love you, dumbass.”

Suddenly, my heartbeat quickens.

“Damn you, Peterson,” I breathe softly.

He presses his forehead to mine. “Not romantic enough for you?”

“Are you joking? It couldn’t get more romantic than this.”

His lips curl into a grin.

“I love you, too, Jensen,” I declare. “Always have.”

“I know, Micah. I feel it. Every day.”

I’ve never heard his tone this soft and tender. The world around us fades into the background as I take in the significance of his words. So simple, yet so powerful.

The dumbass just adds a special touch.

Jensen Peterson not only loves fucking me, but fucking loves me .

I feel a sense of complete validation. All this time, I think a part of me has always known that he loves me, since we were just two innocent kids lost in the system. But hearing him say it with my own ears has sparked something in my soul.

He places his hands on my chest, his eyes exploring mine. Grabbing the collar of my jacket, he draws me closer, brushing his lips against mine. “It took us how many years to say it out loud?

“I lost count,” I say, slamming my mouth against his, holding him passionately beneath the stars.

“Please, go home and sleep,” he murmurs into our kiss.

“No.”

“Take a shower. You smell like shit.”

Wrapping my arms around him tighter, I sigh. “You don’t smell so great, either.”

“You’ve been doing a good job.”

“I know.”

He tilts his head to the side and kisses me deeper, taking in sharp breaths and tangling his hand in my hair. “Will you sleep if I stay with you for a while?”

“Maybe.”

He sits down on the nearest bench and looks up at me, almost waiting for me to give him a hard time. I sit beside him for a minute, stubbornly looking up at the night sky as he pulls his winter hat over my head, warming my painfully red ears. I don’t even try to argue with him about it. I know it won’t do me any good. Even though he’s staying with me, I’m reluctant to give rest a real shot, until eventually, I catch his eyes, noticing the frustration within them.

He’s exhausted, too.

With an exhale of defeat, I submissively lift my legs onto the bench and lie down, resting my head in his lap.

Within seconds, I’m down for the count.

“Fuck,” Jensen curses loudly, moving me from his lap and abruptly pulling me from my sleep.

“W-what?” I stammer, getting reacclimated with my surroundings as I stand.

“He was just there a few minutes ago,” he nervously lets out, rushing toward the bench where Damien once resided.

“What the hell happened?”

“I think I dozed off for a minute or two. Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t believe I—”

“Hey.” I grab him by the shoulders. “We’ll find him.”

Quinn

The sound of the front door opening is loud in the late hours of the night. If I didn’t just get out of the shower twenty minutes ago, I’d probably still be asleep. I wrap my damp hair in a towel and make my way toward the living room, expecting to see Apollo or Asher sitting at the table. However, they’re not in their usual spot.

The room is empty.

Maybe it’s Jensen or Micah. They’ve been out searching for Damien for what feels like every minute of the day. I know they promised they would call me the second they find him, but I still can’t help but have hope that maybe it’s him . Even after all the times I got my hopes up only to have them shot right back down.

This whole thing has been absolute torture. I’ve barely eaten. Barely slept. I’m so exhausted at this point that when Damien steps into my view, I’m sure I must be dreaming.

“Damien?” I whisper.

My heart leaps at the sight of him, especially when my gaze catches the blood splattered on his shirt along with his bruised face. He takes long strides into the kitchen, his heavy boots tracking dirt in his path. When his gaze meets mine, it finally hits me.

This is really happening.

“Damien!” I squeal.

Suddenly, I’m clinging to him, my nails digging into his black leather jacket. Tears spring to my eyes. I hold onto him for dear life, hoping that if I hug him tight enough, he won’t be able to slip away again.

He doesn’t move. He’s as cold as ice and as still as stone. This doesn’t feel like him. It feels like someone else entirely. I draw back just enough to look up at him.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, observing the dried blood on his throat and jaw.

Dark bags reside beneath his vacant eyes, his lips pressed into a firm straight line. My breathing quickens along with my pulse.

Asher bursts into the room, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost.

“He’s home,” I say, stating the obvious.

But there’s this weird look in Asher’s eyes. He digs out his phone from his back pocket, watching us carefully.

“Damien?” he questions, his voice tight.

We get no response.

“Damien,” I say again, more loudly this time. Frustrated. Angry. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Around,” he lets out, his voice falling flat.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Quinn,” Asher warns.

“No, Asher! He hasn’t answered any of my calls,” I press, now glaring at the man I love. “All this shit has been happening to me and you decide to leave me high and dry? Instead of explaining, you disappear? Clearly you know something you’re not telling me.”

Damien’s jaw twitches.

“Take it easy, man,” Asher says to him.

“What are you doing?” I ask sharply, confused out of my mind. “Stop being so easy on him. He scared the shit out of us and comes home as if nothing has happened? That’s bullshit and you know it!”

“He’s not here, Quinn,” Asher states, his voice tight.

I take in a deep breath.

“He’s blacked out.”

“What do you mean he’s blacked out?”

Asher steps forward cautiously, his voice calm. “This happens to him sometimes—”

“Don’t give me that—”

“Listen to me, Quinn,” he stresses. “He’s not here .”

Damien takes slow strides to his room. I trail closely behind him, ignoring and tuning out Asher’s words entirely. I step into the center of the room and keep my eyes locked on my boyfriend as he shuts the door with a loud thud. He almost seems annoyed with my questions. When he turns to face me, my heart skips a beat. The usual spark in his eyes has been replaced with a detached, hollow gaze.

A dead stare.

It’s as if a light has gone out, like even though he’s physically here with me, he’s mentally absent.

I didn’t realize the seriousness behind their warning until now.

There’s a tightness in my stomach. I can feel the blood pulsing in my body. Damien remains perfectly still, staring at me blankly. The emotional distance between us sends shivers down my spine. With squared shoulders, and arms firmly at his sides, he slowly stalks toward me. His features appear carved from stone.

As unsettled as I am, I stand my ground. “Where the fuck were you?”

The heat drains from the room, immediately replaced by a coldness, goosebumps pebbling my skin. With each step forward, his movements seem robotic.

“I called you. Over and over. Why didn’t you answer?” I question him, staring up into his eyes.

“I was busy,” he dismisses.

“That’s your excuse?” I bark, gazing up at him in horror. “What was so important that you fell off the grid? Days passed and you couldn’t even answer your phone? Not even a simple text?”

His eyes appear unfocused, like even with our intense eye contact, he’s staring past me.

“Answer me,” I say, desperation coating my tone. “Do you even know who I am right now?”

He abruptly closes in, spinning me around swiftly. My heart drums rapidly as he forcefully pushes my front against the nearest wall, his forearms locking me in. Shocked with his action, I blink through blurred vision, trying to catch my breath.

Pressing his body into me, he replies with a soft, soothing yet ominous voice. “I know exactly who you are, princess. You’re my whole fucking world.”

I have a strong desire to resist him, given that he hasn’t come home in days, or even bothered to call, yet the ache between my thighs is relentless. As intimidating as his body language has been, and how careless he seems to be, I can’t dismiss how badly I crave him. Especially given the fact I can feel his cock throbbing against me.

“I hate you for scaring me,” I say under my breath.

I press my face against the wall along with my trembling hands. He tears off my silk robe, my nipples hardening as the cold air grazes my skin. I can feel him breathing heavily from behind me, ripping off his own clothes.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He lets out a cold laugh, then kicks at my ankle, spreading my legs. “Taking what’s mine.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss.

“You are going to take every inch,” he sharply orders, the tip of his cock teasing my entrance,“while I gut you with my cock . ”

“Fuck you,” I repeat, fighting against him, yet craving him desperately.

He overpowers me, slamming into me with passionate aggression. A cry falls from my lips. I don’t even have the chance to accommodate his thickness. I can feel him growing harder… bigger.

Fighting through tears, I take him.

“I hate you so much right now,” I whimper.

“Do you want to know what I did to them?” he questions, his voice filled with venom.

Something cold and sharp traces along my waist. I wince from the threatening sensation, becoming motionless, scared to make any sudden movements.

“I-is that a knife?” I ask.

“You’re so pretty,” he replies coolly, grazing the metal tip down my jaw, stopping at the arterial pulse in my throat.

He moves within me, grinding his pelvis against my ass forcefully, burying himself deeper in my core with each stroke.

I call out his name loudly, angrily, my moans bouncing off the walls. He applies slight pressure, pressing the knife into the sensitive skin on my shoulder, drawing a small bead of blood.

“Good girl,” he exhales, circling his lips over my shoulder, tasting me on his tongue.

The sting of the cut and the ungodly ache between my legs sends me right into oblivion. He releases a soft groan of satisfaction, dragging the sharp point down my spine, then pressing into my hip, not hard enough to break skin but enough to send my endorphins skyrocketing.

“I cut into them, too,” he reveals, the darkness within him casting a shadow over the room. “I made them suffer.”

“Who?”

Suddenly, he slips the tip of the knife between my legs, resting the flat, cold edge of the blade over my clit.

“Careful,” he states, pressing down more firmly on my sensitive flesh while sinking into me more slowly. “It’s… sharp.”

I freeze, unable to clench my thighs without the threat of being cut.

“Damien,” I gasp fearfully, my legs trembling.

But the coldness of the steel pressed against the most intimate part of my body sends my endorphins into overdrive.

My heart slams against my ribcage.

When I begin rocking my hips forward, he applies more pressure, the dull edge of the knife grazing along my skin.

I moan softly, sharp, uneven breaths escaping my lips.

“Look at you, grinding your wet pussy on the weapon that claimed the lives of so many worthless, broken men,” he groans callously, slamming into me harder, my body jerking forward.

The knife slips ever so slightly.

My eyes shoot open when it registers in my brain.

“Damien,” I blurt. “Careful—”

“I fucking tortured them, Quinn,” he grits out. “I made them bleed for us. They felt it all. Every… stab… piercing through their flesh. Over and over. They felt it all.” He deepens his thrusts, rocking into me with an urgency, slamming his pelvis against my ass while rubbing the flat side of his knife over my clit in slow, circular motions.

I cry out helplessly from his words and actions, both from fascination… and absolute horror.

“I did it for you, Quinn. I do it all… for you.”

The tip of the blade breaks skin, a burning sensation creeping down my thigh.

“Damien,” I call out to the man… I love… knowing it’s him, while also knowing… it’s not him . Not right now. “Damien…” I breathe sharply, tensing up, terrified to make any sudden movements. “Damien, prove it—”

“Prove it,” he echos, a chilling laugh departing his lips.

He pulls out of me swiftly, the loss of contact leaving me on edge. Scared to look back, I remain motionless, sweaty palms and forehead pressed flat against the surface of the wall, my mind and body on heightened alert.

The abrupt groan that leaves his chest next is explosive. It’s the kind of pleasure derived by pain. Damien lurches forward, and although I can’t see what he’s doing, I know his attention is focused between his legs, his hands working in short, sudden movements, matching his exaggerated breaths.

“Oh, fuck,” he chokes out.

When I finally find the courage to look back, my stomach sinks. I gasp for air, watching intently as Damien finishes carving the last letter, his cock straining with desire, and now painted red.

He’s cut my initials into the tender, most intimate part of his body.

Blood drips from the Q, then the R.

“Oh, oh my—God,” I pant, my lips trembling.

As insane as this is, watching Damien display such erratic and unsafe behavior, my stomach flutters. Heart hammers. Breathing quickens, matching his. There’s something so fucking erotic about this moment, I can’t seem to pull my gaze away, no matter how hard I try.

Positioning himself against my entrance once more, his cock slick with both blood and arousal, he slips back inside me.

That does it.

“Ghost,” I scream out in bliss.

With his lips beside my ear, he stills.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the knife dropping to the floor.

Craning my neck, I meet his eyes, relieved to see the warmth has unexpectedly returned. “Damien?”

“You’re… bleeding.” He groans at the feeling of my pussy gripping him as he moves within me.

“You are, too…”

“Did I?” he asks, unsure. “Fuck… What—Oh, fuck, you feel so fucking good, I can’t think—”

“Where have you been?”

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers, moving his hips against me. “So deep inside you… my favorite place in the whole fucking universe.”

“You cut yourself…” With a whimper, I claw at the wall, my nails chipping the paint. “You’ve… been gone. You disappeared.”

When he begins to draw back, I reach behind me, keeping him close.

“I—” He traces his lips along my throat and then kisses the tender spot just below my ear. “—I’m sorry. That happens sometimes.”

“Don’t fucking stop,” I demand, pushing back against him with each thrust, fighting through the discomfort between my legs.

“Fuck, baby, you feel to die for,” he whispers, sinking his teeth into the tender skin on my shoulder.

I shudder, my body vibrating with pleasure. “It hurts,” I tell him, reaching behind me until my hand cups his firm ass. He sinks into me deeper with slow, sensual strokes. I can feel the blood trickling down my thigh. “I’m so mad at you.”

He pulls out of me with a soft exhale, turns me to face him, and sinks to his knees.

“I know,” he coos, positioning his face between my legs.

He traces his tongue over the small cuts on the crease of my thigh, licking away the small beads of blood. There’s something so erotic about watching him tend to my wounds with his tongue, his eyes locked on mine the entire time as he plants tender kisses on my raw skin. With crimson-colored lips, he works my clit, sucking me into the warmth of his mouth.

He groans loudly, licking up and down my pussy before thrusting his tongue into my hole. Gripping the back of my legs, he shakes his head, nuzzling his nose against my bud roughly. The friction feels so incredible. My thighs burn. My pussy spasms around his tongue, his finger teasing my ass.

But as amazing as this feels, the red hot tension between us thickens in the air.

I pull hard on his hair, guiding his head closer, his face suffocated by my thighs, giving him no room to breathe. His body stiffens as he devours me with his mouth, his thumb sinking into my ass.

While grinding my pussy against his face, my legs begin to give out.

“Get on the fucking bed,” I order.

With a sharp intake of air, he obeys. When I push him onto his back, his eyes widen, reflecting a sense of urgency.

“Look what you did to yourself,” I demand, the skin between his thighs smeared with blood. He doesn’t seem to care.

“Sit on my fucking face,” he murmurs, his voice pleading. “Sit on my fucking face, please .”

I do just that.

My thighs hug his head and I ride him, using his mouth for my own personal gain.

“Shut up,” I say, grinding my pussy against the length of his tongue.

His grip tightens painfully on my thighs, his heavy breathing and groans echoing with mine. I’m so angry I can’t stand it, but even with the anger, our passion is undeniable.

His saliva coats my pussy, his bloody tongue ravishing me like I’m his last meal.

“Fuuuuck,” he whimpers against my flesh. “You taste so fucking good. Use me, baby. Fucking use me to come.”

Just as I’m about to spiral, I pull away.

“Need more—”

“Shut up, Damien.” I straddle his hips and lower myself onto him, taking him entirely. “Just shut the fuck up!”

He draws in a soft, stuttering inhalation, staring up at me with a sense of immediate need.

“I missed you,” I cry out, pinning his arms beside his head. God, I feel crazy. So many emotions are flowing through me at once, like a flood.

He watches me quietly, his lips parted as heavy groans escape his chest. I focus on his eyes, noticing the remorse behind them. I come down forcefully on his thick cock, glaring down at him with all the anger that has built within me over the last several days.

“I couldn’t fucking breathe,” I bite out, tears spilling from my eyes and splattering on his chest.

He swallows hard. “I know—”

I release my grip on his wrists and curl them around his throat. “No,” I argue over him, bringing myself down harder on his pelvis. “You don’t fucking know, Damien, because… you. Weren’t. Here.”

His face turns red, matching his swollen lips.

“There’s a killer in town, and you were gone…”

He screams I’m so fucking sorry with his eyes.

“You think using a knife you’ve killed people with to make me come… and cutting my initials into your skin will make me forget? Make it all better?”

Damien holds my gaze and takes every bit of resentment and frustration I unleash on him. I straighten my arms, applying more pressure to his throat as I bounce on his shaft like I’m in heat. My head becomes heavy, my neck rolling back until the towel holding my hair unravels, falling somewhere behind me.

“You weren’t fucking here,” I whimper, my walls clenching around his thickness as I ride him savagely, rocking my hips aggressively, digging my fingers into his skin. “You’re all. Fucking. Lying. To. Me.”

He groans in disapproval, his eyes glistening beneath the moon light invading the room. “Baby, I— I don’t know what happened. I’m… sorry,” he croaks.

“I’ll leave… I’ll fucking leave you.”

“No,” he grits out, his pupils dilated, brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t— you won’t.”

I slam myself down harder on his shaft, tightening my grip on his throat. “I will.”

He grows harder, twitching inside me. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

From built up emotions and the thought of nearly losing him, and with complete euphoria raging through my body, I ease the pressure on his throat. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling intensely with each strained breath.

“I hate you.”

“But I—”

I lean forward, clinging to him desperately, my forehead pressed against his broad shoulder. He wraps his arms around my back and embraces me through my orgasm.

“Don’t leave me.” Damien lets out another strangled breath, squeezing the life out of me. “I’m done lying. Please don’t leave me.” Damien becomes still, releasing sharp, shallow groans as he spills himself inside me. “Please don’t fucking leave me. You’re my little Quinn, and I’m your Ghost. It’s so dark without you. I’ll do better— I promise I’ll do better,” he groans, burying his face in the nape of my neck, stifling his moans.

The door opens abruptly, crashing against the wall. Micah and Jensen both speak simultaneously.

“Quinn…”

With Damien still snug within me, I crane my neck, meeting their gazes.

“Damien?” Micah gasps. “You’re… here …”

“Yeah,” Damien answers.

Jensen approaches us, staring at Damien apprehensively. “You good?”

“I’m fine?” he questions, gesturing down to where we’re both still joined with a nod. “I’m better than fine, actually. She’s so warm.”

“You think this is a fucking joke?” Jensen asks.

“No?”

Micah looks angry. “Quinn,” he says quickly, his gaze focused on the smeared blood on our bodies.

“I’m okay. I wanted it.”

“We’re both fine,” Damien responds as we stand. “I don’t know what everyone’s problem is.”

With tilted heads and pursed lips, they stare at him.

Damien’s eyes narrow in response. “Dude. What’s your fucking issue?”

“ My issue?” Jensen rubs his face. “Your cock is covered in blood, but I have an issue?”

I can tell he’s trying his best to approach this situation with understanding and empathy. It’s evident how upset he is. He and Micah have been searching high and low for him. We’ve all been so worried. Frustrated.

Angry.

Damien just doesn’t seem to understand.

He still seems lost.

Jensen meets my gaze, examining the small areas where I’ve been cut. “You alright, babe? You want me to kick his ass?”

“I’m okay,” I softly answer. “No ass beating.” Jensen nods in understanding, covering me with my robe and then wiping away my tears. “He just got home,” I tell them. “I would’ve called you guys, but it took me by surprise.”

“Don’t worry. Asher called us.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Quinn?” Micah questions, retrieving the knife from the floor.

“Yeah,” I say. “Things just got a little heated, but we’re alright. Really. I promise.”

Damien visibly appears dazed as he looks over my naked body, his eyes glazed over.

“Damien…”

“It’s Tuesday,” he mumbles. “Isn’t it?”

The air in the room becomes heavy. I swallow hard, trying to get a better grasp on what’s taking place. Does he really… not remember?

Even with all the tension in the room, Jensen places a comforting hand on Damien’s shoulder. “You should sit,” he suggests.

“Just tell me.”

“Sit, Damien—”

“No.”

“It’s Friday,” Micah answers. “You blacked out.”

My stomach sinks, a surge of disbelief coursing through me. But before I can say anything, Damien takes my hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s unwind together.”

“Damien,” Jensen speaks up, following close behind us. “We need to talk.”

“Quinn and I are going to take a shower.”

Steam fills the air as we stand in the small confines of the shower. It’s obvious to me that this fa?ade of detachment after experiencing blackouts has become a coping skill for him. We’ve never spoken about this before and from the wall he has built up, I’m still not sure if he’s truly ready.

A steady stream of water cascades down our bodies. The sound of the droplets hitting the tile creates a soothing atmosphere as we take turns lathering each other’s skin with soap. A mixture of dirt and dried blood flows through the drain at our feet. I can’t help the sadness that washes over me.

Just as quick as his eyes meet mine, I turn away from him, hiding my trembling lips and disturbed gaze. I don’t want to make this any harder for him than it already is.

He steps closer until his chest is flush with my back. Lightly grazing his fingertips over the scarred initials on my hip, he holds me close, his lips beside my ear.

“I’m sorry,” he vaguely whispers. “For scaring you.”

“You… black out?”

“Yes.”

I swallow. “We don’t need to do this now.”

“Yes, we do. I need to explain, especially since I put these marks on your pretty skin,” he says emotionally, tracing the small wounds with his fingers.

“I wanted it,” I defend, leaning back against his chest.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m not me when I’m like that. I didn’t even realize what had happened until I saw you bleeding. That won’t ever happen again.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before.”

“I’m different when I’m blacked out. I’m not myself.”

“You used a knife on your dick, Damien. I’m aware.”

He winces. “I don’t remember any of it. That’s why everyone has been looking out for me.”

“Has it stopped bleeding?” I ask, but he stays silent. “Why does this happen to you?”

“I think it’s from the trauma I faced as a kid. It started when I was pretty young, back when my mom was alive.”

I gulp.

“It’s heavy, Quinn. Real heavy. I don’t want to unload my shit on you. You don’t deserve that. You don’t want to hear that shit.”

“I want to know everything,” I assure him.

He pulls me to him. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

“The first time I watched my father kill a man, I was seven, and when I had my first kill, I was ten.”

My heart shatters.

“He made me watch for a while, but that wasn’t good enough for him. I wasn’t a good enough son for him. Not until he gave me the knife. We hunted our victims at night and then secured them to a table in our basement. Mom knew what was happening. I know she felt guilty for not stopping it, but it wasn’t her fault. He was a monster, and she was scared.”

That does it. Tears spill from my eyes, and an echoing sob escapes me. Damien tightly wraps his arms around me and buries his face in the crook of my neck. I feel his pain so intensely.

He squeezes me tighter. “He hit me… a lot. Beat me pretty much my whole childhood. He wouldn’t beat my mom, but he did try once. I put a stop to it, though. Took the beating instead. It was my birthday. I was fifteen. Mom finally told me we were going to be leaving that night. I packed my bag and met Jensen and Micah at this stupid party to say goodbye.” His voice cracks. “When I got back home… it was quiet. The piece of shit wasn’t there. Mom and I were supposed to run, but I got there too late. She was on the floor… Her wrists were cut open… She was so pale. I thought she was dead. There was so much fucking blood. It was gushing out everywhere, and I tried so hard to stop it. Nothing worked. Not the kitchen rag. Not my shirt. Nothing. No amount of pressure would stop the bleeding.”

“Oh, my God.” I cry for him, visions of my own trauma from finding my father flashing through my mind. “I’m sorry—”

“I begged her to stay with me. I told her I was going to save her. I fucking promised I would save her. You should’ve seen the fear in her eyes. She was so scared, Quinn. I lifted her off the kitchen floor and carried her outside. I tried CPR. I tried to bring her back to me, but she lost too much blood. I watched as the light left her eyes. I had her tight. She died in my arms.”

I sob helplessly, my heart breaking into pieces as I turn to face him.

“I fucking love you,” he whispers sincerely, looking deep into my eyes. “I love you so fucking much.” The second my lips part, he shakes his head erratically, frightened. “Don’t say it back,” he pleads, his warm lips kissing away my tears. “The only person who has ever loved me was the woman who birthed me, and I lost her.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whimper, raking my fingers through his hair, pulling him to me.

“Love…” he groans, pressing a gentle kiss on my jaw. “Love… terrifies me.”

“Love scares everyone.”

He draws back his head without warning. “What if I’m not good at it?” he asks, horror in his eyes. “I loved my mother… and she…”

He inhales a shaky breath.

Locking my arms around his waist, I hold him tight. “I know,” I whisper. “It’s okay, Damien. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“They say love is enough. But it isn’t. It wasn’t enough to save her. So please, don’t say it back. Don’t ever tell me you love me. Promise me right now.”

“But Damien,” I choke out, tracing the dimple in his cheek with my thumb.

“Her love for me… I killed her. Loving me got her killed.”

“No,” I argue, taking his face in my hands. He meets my eyes once more, but they’ve grown distant. “You did not kill her. Don’t you dare put her death on yourself. That isn’t fair. You were just a little boy.”

He grips my wrist tightly, gritting his teeth. “She was trying to save me from becoming like him. Like my father. She was trying to save me. She loved me with everything in her. And loving me that much put her in danger.”

“You’re wrong. Love isn’t what killed your mother. Evil is.”

“Evil is in my blood, baby,” he murmurs. “He’s a sick fuck who gets off on torture. I get that from him.”

“I don’t care,” I dismiss. “I don’t care who your father is. I don’t care that he’s your family, or that evil is in your blood, because the only thing that matters is this .” I firmly place my hand over his heart, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm. “You told me I have your heart. Well, you have mine. You have all of me .”

His eyes begin to glisten.

“Please let me say it. Let me tell you how I feel. You deserve love. Let me give it to you.”

His mouth crashes against mine. He slips his arms beneath my legs and lifts me off the tile, bringing us under the steady stream of hot water.

“The things I’ve done,” he lets out, his voice cracking.

My legs hug his hips, my arms snug around his neck. He holds me so tight, I can feel the pressure in my ribs.

“There’s a place in hell for me, Quinn,” he says against my lips, “but I’ll die happy, knowing I had a taste of heaven with you.”

“Damien,” I beg.

“Okay,” he whispers, the remaining pieces of his wall collapsing before my eyes.

“I love you,” I confess, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

A tremor runs through him, his muscles flexing. He stares at me intensely, squeezing his arms around me, his nails digging into my skin, drawing blood on my back. He waits for me to vanish into thin air.

Waits for an inevitable black hole to sweep me away.

But it doesn’t.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise as his hold on me tightens. “I’m here to stay.”