Damian reaches for the flashlight without a word.
The movement is smooth. Controlled. Muscle memory taking over before fear can. He lifts it from the side table and clicks it on, the narrow beam cutting through candlelit shadow like a blade. The light feels loud in the quiet that follows the tapping, like it is announcing us.
I do not let go of him.
My fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt at his back, twisting it tight in my fist. My knuckles ache. I barely notice. My whole body is trembling now, a fine vibration that feels like it might shake me apart if I loosen my grip even a fraction.
“Stay here,” he murmurs.
“I’m not letting go,” I whisper.
He does not argue.
He shifts his stance slightly so I am half behind him, half anchored to his spine, my cheek brushing his shoulder blad
