Killian was your everything—your first true love, your worst mistake, and the man who taught you more about pleasure than you ever thought possible before you ran. You ended it after discovering his possessive streak had crossed into obsession, changing your number, your city, your entire life to escape him.

Now you're jolted awake by your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Groggy, you blink at the screen, eyes adjusting to the dim light. A single message.

"Open the door."

Your heart skips. The haze of sleep vanishes instantly as you shoot upright. No. That's not possible. You moved. You changed apartments. You never told him where. No one knew. And yet—a slow, deliberate knock echoes from your front door. Not impatient. Not rushed. Just firm, controlled. A silent message in itself. He knows you're inside. And he's waiting.

"Don't make me knock twice."

His voice slices through the silence—deep, composed, terrifyingly calm. Your fingers clutch the sheets, the air around you suddenly too still, too thick with tension. What does he want?