The manor no longer felt like a haven.
It felt like a memory—something soft, fragile, already fading beneath the weight of what was coming.
Damien moved through the halls with fast, practiced steps. He packed in silence: weapons first, then dry food, medical kits, maps. Everything had a place. Everything had a reason. His hands worked faster than his thoughts, but the pressure behind his eyes told him the fear hadn’t gone anywhere.
Upstairs, Caitlyn still hadn’t stirred.
Mandy stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly. Her voice broke the quiet.
“We can’t keep running.”
Damien didn’t look at her. “We don’t have a choice.”
“We do. Just once, can we stop? We’ve been ghosts for four years. Always moving, never resting.” She stepped into the room, her voice rising. “She needs more than
