Chapter Ten: The Shadow in the Rain
Rain fell against the dorm window, soft but steady — a rhythm that filled the silence of Athena's small room. She was still sitting on her bed, the glow of her phone screen casting light across her face. The last message from Unknown still blinked back at her.
> You shouldn't stay up so late. It's bad for your heart.
Her heart thudded harder at the words. The air felt heavier, colder. She swallowed, trying to convince herself she was imagining things. But then… something moved.
A shadow — quick, subtle — near the window.
Athena froze. Her eyes widened, breath caught halfway in her throat.
"Who's there?" she whispered, voice barely audible over the rain.
No reply. Just the wind. And the faint creak of the wooden floor near her door.
She stood slowly, every sound in the room amplified by her fear. Then came a soft knock.
Three gentle taps.
Her pulse raced as she walked to the door, hesitating before opening it — and there he was.
Damon DeVille.
Standing under the dim hallway light, his clothes drenched, rain dripping from his hair onto the floor. He looked completely out of place, like a vision from a dream she wasn't supposed to have.
"Damon?" she breathed.
He said nothing at first — just studied her face like he couldn't believe she was real. Then his deep voice broke the silence.
"I didn't mean to scare you. The storm got worse, and…" He paused, glancing away. "I was nearby."
Nearby.
The word sent a chill through her.
Had he been watching her?
Athena stepped back instinctively, and he followed — slow, careful, as if not to startle her. The scent of rain and faint cologne filled the air.
"Y-you're soaked," she said quickly, looking anywhere but his eyes. "You'll get sick—there's a towel in the bathroom."
He nodded once, still quiet, before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of running water came next — steady and calm — but it didn't calm her.
She sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped tightly. What is he doing here? Why now?
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out.
Her robe hung loosely over his frame — far too small for him, the sleeves short, the fabric clinging to his shoulders.
Athena's face turned bright red. "That's—mine," she stammered.
Damon's lips curved faintly, the smallest hint of amusement softening his usually cold expression. "I called my assistant to bring clothes. I hope you don't mind."
"N-no, I don't," she said quickly, looking away again. The air between them felt charged, neither of them knowing what to do with it.
For a moment, neither spoke. Only the rain filled the silence.
Then, almost too softly, she said, "You disappeared for eight months."
He looked at her — really looked at her — his eyes softer than she had ever seen them. "And yet you still remembered."
Her breath hitched. The room felt too small.
Both of them blushed, but neither looked away.
Outside, thunder rolled through the night, echoing the confusion inside both their hearts.