Avery's POV
The next morning, I woke up early—like I always did—despite the fact that I was supposed to be resting on strict medical orders and that William had given me the day off.
Boredom clung to my skin after several failed attempts to fall back asleep. Lying there doing nothing was driving me even crazier. So, without thinking too much about it, I slipped into my workout clothes: black leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, my hair tied back hastily.
An old habit resurfaced—running to forget.
Downstairs, I found my mother asleep on the couch, still wearing the same clothes as the night before. Daniel had walked her back to her room yesterday evening… She must still be struggling to sleep alone now.
I approached quietly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. A simple, almost childish gesture—but one that seemed to bring her a little peace.
Then I slipped outside.
The air carried that particular freshness of dawn—the kind that wakes both body and mind. The sun, still shy, barely brushed the rooftops of Raven's Shade. I pushed my earbuds in and let a Taylor Swift song play.
The music.
The road.
The wind against my face.
Everything felt right. Calm. Soothing.
Too soothing, maybe.
The calm before the storm, a small voice whispered deep inside me.
I ran without thinking, casually observing the neighbors in their morning routines: Mrs. Jenkins walking her dog like every day, Mr. Bradford collecting his mail, a group of friends already laughing on the sidewalk. Everything felt strangely alive, bright—almost unreal.
That was probably why I didn't immediately notice where my feet had taken me.
When I finally slowed down, breathless, stopping to catch my breath… my stomach tightened.
A colder gust of air brushed my skin.
I shivered.
Like a cat—or an animal on alert—I carefully scanned my surroundings, until I realized where I was.
The edge of the forest.
And farther ahead… the cemetery gates.
"How did I end up here?" I murmured under my breath.
I had never liked this place. Not since my father was buried there.
And yet, my feet moved on their own.
I pushed the gate open. It creaked, rusty and worn, as if it were begging me not to enter. The music in my ears kept playing, blending unnervingly with the atmosphere.
Leaves crunched beneath my steps. The air smelled of damp earth and ancient stone.
I stopped in front of his grave.
The letters carved into the stone still looked fresh, twisting my heart painfully.
"Hi, Dad…" I whispered, kneeling down.
White flowers—freshly placed—rested on the slab. His favorites.
I brushed them lightly with my fingertips.
A fragile smile appeared on my lips.
But it faded almost instantly.
No one had been here recently. Not Mom. Not Daniel. Not me.
So… who?
A murmur reached my ears—barely perceptible.
I removed one earbud.
Nothing.
Just the wind.
I put it back in… and the sound returned, louder this time—like an urgent whisper right behind me.
Then a sudden shrill noise rose—high-pitched, metallic, like a microphone too close to a speaker.
I jolted, ripping the earbuds out.
My temples throbbed. My heart raced.
And then I felt it.
That shiver.
The same one from the past few days—but stronger. Colder. As if someone—or something—was watching me right now.
I slowly turned my head, every muscle tense to the breaking point.
Behind me, there was nothing.
And yet—I knew I wasn't alone.
The air vibrated with a presence.
Invisible. Heavy.
I barely breathed.
A shadow slipped into my field of vision.
Before I could even think, I dropped low, frantically searching the ground for anything I could use as a weapon. My fingers closed around a stone.
I struck with all my strength at the presence behind me.
A muffled groan burst out.
Someone had been hit.
I stumbled backward, grabbing a fallen branch and raising it like a pathetic weapon. My hands were shaking, but I refused to show it.
"I didn't think someone could be that aggressive so early in the morning," a deep, familiar voice said calmly.
Pale sunlight filtered through the trees and illuminated his face.
The strange man from the Shade Diner.
I froze.
"You?!"
He gave a small smile—amused, but cautious.
"Yes. Me."
I tightened my grip on the branch, forcing myself to stand firm.
"Don't come any closer. I'm warning you."
"You didn't hold back," he muttered, rubbing his temple.
"You were this close to splitting my skull."
And that's when I saw it.
Right before my eyes, the wound I had just inflicted… closed.
Slowly at first.
Then all at once—like his flesh obeyed laws different from ours.
No trace left.
Except for the blood that had spilled at the impact.
My breath caught in my throat.
He had healed in a way that was disturbing. Improbable.
Almost…
Inhuman.
The word slammed into my mind.
And he seemed to read it in my eyes.
I stepped back again, fingers clenched tightly around the branch.
"I don't know who you are or what you want, but if you take one more step, I swear I—"
"I don't doubt it, Avery," he cut in calmly, wiping his forehead.
I startled.
"How do you know my name?"
"Because I know you, Ava."
"I forbid you to call me that," I snapped, more nervous than I wanted to be.
"If I knew you, I'd remember."
"You don't remember," he murmured to himself.
"But I know you," he repeated softly.
A heavy silence fell.
The wind died down. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath.
He took a step forward.
I raised the branch, trembling.
His dark, gleaming eyes settled on me—no, on my chest.
"At the speed your heart's beating, it's pretty clear you're scared."
"What?"
I glanced down for a split second—
—and he took advantage of it.
In one swift motion, he grabbed my wrist, removed the branch from my hands, then released me immediately.
His scent—woodsy, almost ancient—surrounded me.
His gaze, deep and unreadable, locked onto mine.
"If I wanted to hurt you," he said evenly,
"I would've done it a long time ago. And that piece of wood wouldn't have helped."
I stood frozen, breathing unevenly.
I wanted to step back—but my legs refused to move.
"Who… who are you?" I whispered.
A faint smile crossed his lips.
"A friend."
"A friend?"
He nodded.
"A friend for whom you matter a great deal."
Something in his voice vibrated with a strange sincerity.
And for just a moment, I thought I saw a golden glow in his eyes…
Almost supernatural.
But when I blinked, it was gone.
He was simply looking at me—calm—as if none of it had happened.
I tried to speak, but no words came out.
A sudden flap of wings shattered the silence.
And when I turned around—
He was gone.
All that remained was the wind, the cemetery, and a lingering woodsy scent in the air—persistent, like a secret too old to be forgotten.