Shirley
I barely slept.
The nightmare clung to my skin like sweat, lingering long after the sun rose. I must’ve checked the mirror three times before brushing my teeth—each time half-expecting to see those glowing gold eyes staring back at me. Of course, they weren’t there. Just bloodshot pupils and a tired face.
I wrapped my robe tighter around me and moved to the kitchen, hoping coffee would somehow reset my nerves. The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that didn’t comfort—it unsettled. Like it was holding its breath.
I was halfway through pouring the hot water when a knock at the front door made me nearly spill the mug. My heart kicked up again.
I peered through the curtain. A tall man stood on the porch—broad shoulders, military-straight posture, and wearing a brown leather s
