Chapter 2

The air in the square was thick enough to chew, a rich, spicy haze of pine needles, roasted nuts, and the sweet, dark aroma of mulled wine that hung heavy in the cool evening. I stood near the edge of the bustling crowd, watching the world spin in a blur of red velvet and gold leaf. The Christmas market was alive, a cacophony of laughter and carols that seemed to bounce off the old stone buildings, but my focus was entirely fixed on him. He was still there, leaning against a wooden post near the stall selling hand-carved ornaments, a glass of glühwein in his hand, watching me with that same predatory, patient intensity that had been following me all afternoon. He hadn’t chased me. He hadn’t cornered me. He had simply let me feel the weight of his gaze, letting the tension coil tighter and tighter in my stomach until it felt like a physical thing, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. And now, as the sky turned a deep, bruised purple and the string lights above began to flicker to life, casting long, dancing shadows across the cobblestones, he finally moved. He didn’t walk toward me with the