Lucifer's Captive Bride

ng-someone-watching me. I can't explain it, but it's there. A shadow in the corn

mber crawling from the wreckage, my heart pounding, and seeing him-just standing there in the distance, watching. I've told myself a thousand times that it wa

of the night, drenched in sweat, that same cold creeping through me. I hear footsteps

ff most days

I should be excited. But instead, all I

that something is coming

trying to push the thoughts out of my head. It's ju

ark, watching me. My heart skips a beat, my breath catching in my throat. For a sec

, and h

y. He was there. I know he was. But there's no one here now,

, just my mind playing tricks again. I've seen things like

y room, closing the door behind me. As I lay down in bed, I c

is watching. And I ha

•

ckly, not wanting to wake her. Not that it matters. We haven't had a proper conversation in years, and even the sound of my footsteps tends to annoy her. I know what she thinks every

it to me after my parents died. I grab my work clothes from the chair by the door and slip into them. Same as always-jeans worn down at the knees, a shirt that's fade

's dinner, none of which she'll offer to me. She never does. I grab my bag and head out the door before she can wake up, the early morning chill biting at my sk

ng with the speed and efficiency of someone who's been doing this for decades. She's a small woman, with graying hair pulled into a tight bun and sharp eyes that

ut from behind the counter, no

ar clatter of plates and the hiss of the dishwasher fill the kitchen, and I let myself fall into the rhythm of it. The ro

m of conversation. I barely notice them, my hands moving on autopilot as I clear tables and refill drinks

, and I glance up to see Liam walking in, a grin already spreading across his face. He looks the same as always-mess