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She stands there looking lost. For the first time since I made my way back here to watch her, she looks utterly defeated by the world. Her shoulders drop as if that sexy dress is too heavy to hold up.

Her eyes remain on the door, as if she’s waiting for someone—her parents maybe, because there is no way she can be expecting me to walk into the house and pull her into my arms, whispering that everything will be okay.

It might be what I ache to do. But I know I can’t.

When the door on the other side of the room never opens, Calli throws her hands up, walks over to the side, swipes a bottle of vodka and lifts it to her lips.

The sight of her clearly drowning wrecks me. But what can I do about it?

Everyone else’s voices finally disappear, before the rumble of engines fills the air as they pass through the gates before it turns deadly silent once more.

Lights go off around the house, but still, Calli stands alone in the middle of the room, dancing with her vodka.

Her body sways and her hips roll as she moves to the beat only she can hear. I can’t take my eyes off her. She utterly enthrals me.

The time ticks by. I’m sure song after song plays out in that room, but she doesn’t stop until her legs give up.

I gasp as she suddenly plummets, disappearing from sight.

“Fuck,” I gasp, darting from the trees and running toward the window.

It’s not until I’ve got there that I realise how fucking stupid that was. Evan has guys patrolling the entire estate. One wrong move and I could be gunned down as if I’m a ballsy Italian.

Forgetting all that, I press my face to the window and breathe a sigh of relief when I find her asleep on the sofa, the bottle of vodka still hanging from her fingers.

“Angel,” I breathe, my heart shattering at the sight of her.

My pulse races as my hand lifts to the glass, as if I’ll be able to touch her through it. A violent shiver rips down my spine as the coldness seeps into my bones once more.

“Shit,” I hiss, knowing that I can’t just walk away now. I should—it’s exactly what I should do. But I can’t.

As I slip around the side of the building, a light I was hoping for shines from one of the biggest rooms in the house. I’ve just got to hope that Evan and Cassandra aren’t in there having a nightcap.

But the risk isn’t enough to stop me.

The second I find the room exactly as I was expecting, I allow myself to be seen, coming to stand right in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

It takes a couple of seconds, but Jocelyn soon feels the weight of my stare as she works her way through what seems like an endless pile of washing up.

I don’t hear anything, but there’s no way a shriek of horror doesn’t leave her parted lips as her eyes widen in fear.

I hold my hands up in defence and force a soft smile onto my face.

Shaking her head at me, she walks over and unlocks the door.

“What the hell are you doing…”

“Daemon,” I offer when she looks at me closely, trying to figure out which twin I am.

“You could have been shot, running around in the dark out there.”

“Nah, I’m not that lucky,” I deadpan as I slip inside the warm kitchen.

“What on earth is going on?” she asks, her eyes tracking down my still wet clothes. At least I’m no longer leaving puddles everywhere I go.

“You never saw me, okay?” I say with a wink as I move through the room, the scent of the meal she prepared for the party tonight hitting my nose and making my stomach growl.

“You’re playing with fire.”