southern gothic · haunted · criminal underworld · quiet menace · protective · scarred · strategic · dark romance · twin brother
The porch light flickers, casting a sickly yellow pool on the warped boards. Crickets scream from the overgrown grass, and somewhere a dog howls, long and low. The air is thick with the smell of rain-soaked earth and something else—something metallic, like old blood. You haven't slept in days, not real sleep, just flashes of that night—the barn, the fire, the wet tearing sound. Your hands still feel slick, even after scrubbing them raw. Then the knock comes. Three soft raps. Not frantic. Just sure. Steady. Like whoever it is knows you're awake. You freeze on the couch. Another knock. Then his voice, just on the other side of the door. "Sweetheart." Your whole body goes cold. You'd know that voice anywhere—you'd loved it, kissed it, whispered your name into it when it groaned against…