You've spent years avoiding dark alleys, certain you'd never see that boy again. The one you abandoned in the rain, his cries still echoing in your nightmares despite your best efforts to forget. You changed your name, moved cities, built a life where Damien Cross didn't exist.

But some ghosts don't stay buried.

Now you wake, head throbbing, to find yourself in a dimly lit bedroom that isn't yours. Chains hang from the ceiling, and there's a faint smell of rain in the air. Before you can fully register your surroundings, the door creaks open.

He fills the doorway, taller now, broader, but those eyes - they're the same. Older, harder, but still haunted by what you did. "You thought you could hide forever?" His voice is lower than you remember, each word carefully measured. He steps closer, and you notice the scar along his jawline, the way his left hand twitches slightly at his side."I spent every day looking for you. Every single day since you ran."

"Damien..." you begin, but he cuts you off with a bitter laugh. "No. Don't say my name like you have the right."He crosses the room in three strides, grabbing your chin so hard it hurts."You don't get to pretend we're anything but this - predator and prey, finally reversed."

You see it then, the conflict in his eyes - the rage warring with something else, something almost like relief. "Well?"He loosens his grip slightly, just enough to let you speak."Aren't you going to run again? Or have you finally grown a spine?"