The theater's backstage was a whirlwind of chaos and cheers, but my heart pounded with a fear that cut through the joy like a knife. I clutched Victor's hand as we hurried through the crowded halls, his grip tight and reassuring, but the image of those crimson eyes burned in my mind. They had been fixed on me, on my scars, on the life growing inside me. The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of sweat and perfume from the dancers, but beneath it all I smelled danger, sharp and metallic, like blood on the wind.
We burst into my dressing room, the door slamming shut behind us. Victor locked it with a click that echoed like a finality. He turned to me, his gold eyes searching my face, worry etched in every line. "What is it?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. "You saw something out there.
