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You stay where I can find you.

Those words.

They weren’t about him finding me.

They were about me finding him.

His cruel grip rose inside my mind. The way he froze when he touched the book in my hand. That wasn’t anger. That was fear. One he tried to hide. But I saw it. More importantly—I felt it.

I turned back to the books. They looked different now. Not spines. Not words…a map. I pulled more from the shelves, searching.

For my wife, Theresa.

So you never forget how the world can feel.

Yours,

Alaric.

His wife.

I stared at the words and swallowed, then flipped the page.

Wuthering Heights.

I knew this book. Knew of it at least. I hadn’t read it. I hadn’t read much in the confines of the Order. Only fear. I knew that story well.

I didn’t put the book back. Instead I pulled the books I’d found before free once more, stacking them and left. The ache in my leg howled with every step. I forced myself to move faster than my gait allowed and headed straight for my room. I had purpose now. I had power. Something other than the helplessness. That was all that mattered.

I dropped the books on the sofa in front of the window and tugged the sheer curtains aside. Excitement filled me as I sat and pulled the first book onto my lap and started reading. I turned the first page. The paper soft. Worn. Touched. Loved.

The words didn’t wait. They dragged me in…

A man stood at the edge of a place that felt more like a wound than a home. Wind tore at the walls, clawed through the cracks, howled like something alive. Nothing about it felt safe. Nothing about it felt kind.

And still⁠—

He stayed.

I frowned, my fingers tightening on the page.

Why would anyone stay somewhere like that?

The house breathed through the lines. Cold. Isolated. Cut off from the rest of the world like it’d been buried and long forgotten. It wasn’t a prison. No. It was a devotion.

My chest tightened.

I turned the page faster.

Another voice. Another man. Watching. Judging. Trying to make sense of something that refused to be understood. And then⁠—

Him.

Not described the way I expected. Not monstrous. Not at first at least. But there was something wrong beneath the surface. Something coiled. Controlled too tightly. Like if it slipped even slightly, it’d consume everything around it.

My breath slowed.

I knew that feeling.