The night did not stay quiet.

It never truly does—not when danger has already brushed so close it leaves a mark.

I woke to the subtle shift of Elijah’s body beside me. Not a jolt, not panic—just tension tightening, like a wire pulled too far. His breathing had changed, shallow and controlled. A man awake long before his eyes opened.

“Elijah?” I whispered.

He was already sitting up.

“Stay still,” he murmured, voice barely sound at all.

My heart thudded. “What is it?”

He ...