Damien’s voice dropped, cold and clipped. “And if he touches her before then?”
Ashcroft’s expression darkened. “Then we carve through that door before he finishes his breath. And I hand you the bastard—limbs optional.”
A gust of wind stirred through the trees.
Damien’s eyes burned. “No. I want him whole. I want him screaming.”
Ashcroft grinned. “Now we’re speaking the same language.”
As the sun began its slow descent, stretching long shadows across the earth, the air shifted.
A storm was coming.
And when the light finally died behind the trees… Hell was coming with it.
Inside the Lake House
The lock clicked into place.
Maya didn’t breathe—not yet. She listened. Waited. Counted the seconds in her head.
Ten. Fifteen.
No footsteps. No creaking floorboards. No return.
Just silence
