The Night Walk

...The Night Walk...

The night didn’t feel like night anymore.

It felt like a pause between things. Like something had stopped breathing—but not her.

Evelyn moved slowly, her arms crossed over her chest against the chill that had no business being this sharp in August. The campus had been alive earlier: lights, music, the sound of laughter bleeding through open dorm windows.

But here, in the old North Courtyard, none of that reached her.

Here, the silence had teeth.

She stepped past the crooked stone arch. Ivy brushed her shoulder like fingers that knew her name. Her footsteps echoed too loudly on the uneven brick path.

The courtyard opened like a throat — wide and old and waiting.

There was one light.

A single rusted lamp, flickering in weak intervals. When it dimmed, the shadows took over. When it flared, she looked over her shoulder.

And that’s when she saw him.

He stood just at the edge of the light, where shadow met definition. Like he’d been waiting there the entire time — not hidden, just choosing not to be seen until now.

Her breath hitched. Not from fear. Something worse. Or better. Or both.

His posture was casual — hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly, like he was studying a piece of art. But his stillness had the precision of a wire pulled tight. Like if he moved, it wouldn’t be random. It would be intended.

The lamp flickered again. And when it lit him, she saw the details:

Black shirt. Collar open. The curve of a vein in his neck. Jaw like a blade. Hair dark, neatly swept back. Shoulders cut like he was made of stone and silk at the same time.

And his eyes.

Not warm. Not cold.

Just focused—like she was the only thing in the world he hadn’t yet put his hands on.

She could barely breathe.

He didn’t move. Just let the silence stretch. Let her heart pound harder in her chest, because he knew it was happening. He knew how close she was to either running or falling to her knees and begging for him to speak.

And finally, he did.

His voice was low and smooth. Not loud. Not rushed.

Just… certain.

“You’re exactly where I wanted you.”

The words dropped between them like a glove.

Evelyn ’s mouth went dry.

He stepped closer. One pace. Enough that she could see the sharp angles of his cheekbones now. The faint scar tracing the edge of his left eyebrow. A detail no one else would notice unless they were allowed this close.

She wasn’t sure she had been allowed. But she was here, wasn’t she?

“I—” She started. Her voice didn’t want to work. “Do I… know you?”

He smiled.

But it wasn’t kindness. It wasn’t friendliness.

It was possession.

“Not yet.”

Another step.

She didn’t move. She should have moved. But her body wouldn’t obey. Her limbs were strung with a thousand invisible threads, all pulled taut and trembling.

His gaze dropped to her lips.

Not by accident.

“I don’t believe in introductions. I believe in recognition. And I recognized you.”

The wind picked up then, sliding past them like a warning. Her breath fogged faintly in the cold air. Her skin burned.

She blinked, heart thudding against her ribs.

“From… where?”

He tilted his head.

“The moment you walked through the gate,” he said. “I watched you take a breath before you spoke to yourself.”

Her blood ran cold.

No one had been close enough to hear that. Or so she’d thought.

“You said, ‘You’ll be alright,’” he murmured. “But you lied.”

Her hands were trembling now.

He saw. Of course he did. And he stepped one more pace closer. Close enough that she could smell the sharp scent of cedar, something expensive, something old. His presence pressed against hers without touching.

“Tell me your name,” he said. Not asked. Said.

Evelyn licked her lips, too fast. He noticed that too.

“Evelyn .”

He smiled again.

“Evelyn .” He tasted it like a secret. “That’s the first thing I’ll take.”

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