.

I don't sleep.

The message—Do you remember now?—lingers in my head like an echo that refuses to fade.

It wasn’t Cassian’s tone. It was… different.

Colder. Anonymous.

I stare at the phone until the battery dies.

My reflection in the black screen stares back—pale skin, hollow eyes, tangled hair. I hardly recognize myself anymore.

It’s barely 5 a.m. when I step out of the guest room.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly. Answers, maybe. Or proof that I’m not just imagining everything.

I moved down the corridor toward the room Cassian never entered yesterday.

The only door that was locked.

I try the handle.

Still locked.

But this time, I noticed something I hadn’t before: a tiny security panel embedded in the wall beside it.

Fingerprint access.

I glance behind me, heart pounding.

Then I turn and head back to my room.

But I don’t rest.

I wait.

---

When Cassian knocks at 8 a.m., I’m ready.

“I’d like to go back,” I say as he hands me coffee.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Back where?”

“To the hospital.”

He tilts his head. “That won’t help you remember.”

“It’s not about memory. It’s about the truth.”

Cassian considers me for a long moment, then nods once.

“I’ll arrange it.”

---

He drives me there himself.

The hospital is tucked between two hills, outside city limits. Private. Quiet. Expensive.

The receptionist greets him by name.

They don’t ask for ID. Or insurance.

I follow Cassian past the lobby, up a silent elevator, and into a ward I never knew existed.

It’s empty.

“Here,” he says, gesturing to a door with my name still etched on the frosted glass.

Dalen, Amira

I step inside.

My breath catches.

The bed is exactly as I remembered from the painting. White sheets. Metal frame. Monitors disconnected. A single chair at the corner of the room.

Cassian stands behind me.

“You never left this room for almost four months.”

I walk slowly toward the bed, fingers grazing the cold railings.

“It doesn’t feel like mine.”

He watches me. “Because you’ve changed.”

I whirl around. “Or because I was never meant to be here.”

Cassian’s face is unreadable.

“You were lost,” he says softly. “I kept you safe.”

I clench my fists. “Why didn’t you call the police? My friends? Anyone?”

He exhales. “You had no one, Amira. I checked. You were alone.”

“And you just decided to keep me?”

“I gave you time to heal.”

“You took my life.”

He doesn’t respond.

---

Back at the estate, I head straight for the locked room.

This time, I didn't knock.

Instead, I move quietly to his study.

He always leaves his coffee on the desk. Always unlocks the panel to check the night logs.

And he always steps out to take his calls in the courtyard.

Which he does now.

I seize my moment.

The panel blinks to life as I press my finger into the recently touched pad.

Access Granted.

The door clicks open.

Inside, the air smells of old paper, ink, and something else—something sterile.

My eyes adjust to the dim light.

Drawings.

Hundreds of them.

All mine.

Pinned to every wall.

But these aren’t just the ones from my studio.

These are the ones I threw away.

The ones I scribbled in nightmares. The ones I never showed anyone.

He saved them all.

At the far end of the room is a table.

Tapes. Recordings.

I press play on one.

Static. Then:

“Amira… tell me what you see.”

My voice answers, trembling.

“A door. Locked. There’s something behind it. It’s watching me.”

Another tape.

“Do you remember what happened that night?”

Silence.

Then my voice:

“He was there before the accident.”

My heart pounds.

I fumble for another tape—this one dated three weeks before I woke up in the city.

“You have to stop, Cassian. I don’t trust you anymore.”

“You said you wanted the truth.”

“Not like this.”

“You’ll thank me when you remember everything.”

The tape ends.

I take a step back, dizzy.

I turn—and Cassian is in the doorway.

His expression is unreadable.

“You weren’t supposed to find this yet,” he says quietly.

I can barely breathe. “You lied to me.”

“I protected you.”

“You manipulated me.”

“I loved you.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

My throat tightens. “What?”

Cassian walks toward me slowly.

“I loved you, Amira. Before the accident. After. Still.”

I shake my head, backing away. “You controlled me.”

He stops a few steps away. “You don’t understand what is coming for you. I kept you safe from it.”

“What was coming for me?”

His voice drops.

“You were painting things you weren’t supposed to see. Things hidden from the world.”

I stare at him.

“What are you talking about?”

Cassian reaches into a drawer.

He pulls out a sketch.

My sketch.

But it’s not just the forest anymore.

It’s a cabin.

A woman standing in front of it.

And behind her… a second figure.

Faceless.

Lurking.

Watching.

“I didn’t draw this,” I whisper.

Cassian nods. “Yes, you did. Two nights ago. In your sleep.”

I dropped the paper.

Cassian kneels beside it. “You’ve seen him before. Haven’t you?”

I don’t answer.

He looks up.

“Someone else is watching you, Amira.”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

Cassian’s voice is cold now. “And I’m the only one who can stop him.”