The night settled over Willow Creek, draping the quiet town in darkness. Streetlights cast long, flickering shadows against the old stone buildings, their glow barely reaching the narrow alleys where secrets festered. On the surface, it looked peaceful, almost picturesque—but Elena Carter knew better.
Willow Creek had a way of hiding its sins beneath layers of charm and history, like a pretty mask covering something rotten.
She pulled her coat tighter around her as she pushed through the heavy wooden doors of The Raven's Nest, the town's best-kept secret and her usual retreat when her thoughts got too loud. The familiar scent of whiskey, aged wood, and faint cigarette smoke wrapped around her like an old habit. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions and everyone carried ghosts of their own.
Sliding onto her usual seat at the bar, she barely had to lift a finger before a glass of red wine was placed in front of her. The bartender, Matthew, a gruff man with salt-and-pepper hair, gave her a small nod before moving on.
No words needed. She'd been coming here long enough for him to know when she wanted to be left alone.
But tonight, something felt… off.
Elena could feel it, the shift in the air—like a silent warning humming beneath her skin. She wasn't sure why at first, but then she felt it.
A presence.
Lifting her glass, she took a slow sip, letting the warmth of the wine settle in her chest as she casually scanned the room. That's when she saw him.
A stranger.
Seated at a corner table, he looked like he belonged in a different world—one far from the small-town familiarity of Willow Creek. His broad shoulders and dark, slightly tousled hair caught the dim candlelight, giving him an almost ethereal edge. But it wasn't his looks that unsettled her. It was the way he carried himself, like a man used to watching, calculating, waiting.
Elena knew everyone in this town.
She didn't know him.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her glass. Strangers were rare in Willow Creek, and the ones who did pass through never stayed long. There was nothing here for outsiders—nothing but dead ends and forgotten stories.
So why was he here?
She willed herself to look away, but it was already too late.
When her gaze flickered back to him, she found him watching her.
A slow, deliberate moment stretched between them, the noise of the bar fading into the background. He didn't look away. Didn't smile. Just held her in place with a stare that felt like it could unravel her if she let it.
A shiver curled down her spine, but not from fear.
It was something else.
Something she didn't want to name.
With a steadying breath, she turned her attention back to her drink. Whatever his reason for being here, it wasn't her problem. She had enough of those already.
Still, the weight of his gaze lingered, pressing against her skin long after she finished her wine.
—Later That Night—
Elena stepped out of the bar, the crisp October air biting at her cheeks. She tugged her coat tighter around her, shoving her hands into the pockets as she started down the quiet street. The town was nearly silent at this hour, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
She wasn't afraid of the dark.
But tonight, it felt different.
As she walked, the feeling of being watched never quite left her. She glanced over her shoulder once, twice—seeing nothing but empty streets.
Still, the unease crawled beneath her skin.
It wasn't paranoia. She'd learned to trust her instincts a long time ago.
By the time she reached her apartment, her pulse had quickened, though she forced herself to push the feeling aside. She was being ridiculous. It was just a stranger in a bar. Nothing more.
And yet…
She locked the door behind her, exhaling as the quiet of her apartment wrapped around her like a blanket. The city lights flickered beyond the window, their glow casting faint shadows across the walls. Dropping her coat onto the couch, she poured another glass of wine and sank into the chair by the window.
In the reflection of the glass, she caught her own gaze.
A woman still haunted.
A woman who should know better.
But even as she told herself she wouldn't think about him again, she already knew.
Damian Walsh wasn't the kind of man a woman could ignore.
And somehow, she had a feeling that tonight was just the beginning.