Page 112 of When Death Whispers

Tocalmme.

To protect me.

And I hate it.

Because it’s working.

I sob harder, the panic now tangled with shame. With guilt. With this horrible, crawling confusion in my chest.

My vision blurs. My limbs go weak. And even as I try to fight it, I feel the shadows wrapping tighter—not to hold me down, but to keep me safe—as the panic finally rips me under.

Darkness folds over me.

And I pass out in the arms of my monster.

42

My cheeks aredamp when I stir, the cold stickiness of tears clinging to my skin.

That’s how I know I’ve been crying in my sleep.

The air is thick and damp, clinging to me like a second layer. Something rough digs into my back—roots, I realize, twisted together like a nest. A blanket is wrapped around me, heavy and scratchy, carrying the faint scent of ash, earth, and something sharper. The scent that always came with the shadows. The one I never had a name for until recently.

Steorfan.

The ceiling above me is rough and gnarled, lined with pulsing veins of light that beat slow and steady—like a heart buried inside the walls.

I blink through the dim amber glow and push myself upright. Roots curve beneath me—uneven, twisted together in a way that feels deliberate, like they were grown to hold something. To holdme.

As I shift, something brushes the back of my arm—cool, soft, sentient.

Not wind. Not wood.

A shadow.

Still here.

Stillhis.

He’s not here. Not yet. But his shadows are. One curls around my thigh, resting there like it belongs. Another lingers near my spine, a phantom exhale down the column of my back. The last wraps loosely around my wrist, featherlight and steady.

They don’t tighten. They don’t prod. They simply remain.

The panic from earlier lingers under my skin, a slow thrum in my veins. I remember the way it overtook me. The way I crumpled. The way he caught me—not as a predator, but something else. Something closer to steady.

He held me.

And now I’m here. In his realm. In what I can only assume is his home. Wrapped in his blanket. Guarded by his shadows. Surrounded by a silence that feels far too much like attention.

My fingers curl into the fabric on my lap.

Hudson’s face flickers in my mind. His voice. His hand in mine.

Safe.

He’s safe, at least. In the human realm. Away from all of this.

But Rad…

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