Despite his best efforts to steer clear of Mr. Albu’s property, my gaze inevitably drifted toward that backyard each night from my cramped study corner. The night cloaked that place in darkness, but the creature hidden there never ceased to haunt my thoughts. Its shifting outline flickered between the eerie silhouette of gnarled branches and the unmistakable shape of something monstrously alive.
Every night, that presence gnawed at the edges of my sanity. I found myself double-locking doors, dragging my dresser against the windowpane, and pulling the covers up as though fabric alone could shield me from the nightmare lurking just outside. I wasn’t a religious man—not anymore—but when the oppressive quiet of my room swallowed me whole and my pulse raced, I whispered fleeting invocations to whatever higher power might be listening.
Knowing that a creature with horns, wings, and a tail lived mere feet away was a terror no amount of rationalizing could dull.
Morning’s shrill alarm yanked me from another restless night. I groaned, swiping blindly until the clock plunged to the floor with a muffled thud. Dawn never suited me, and after the hours I’d just survived, I felt like I’d been trapped under a steamroller.
I stumbled toward the kitchen, eyes still heavy-lidded and raw. But the instant I stepped through the doorway, my movements froze.
There he was—Mr. Albu—sitting at my breakfast table.
My foggy brain struggled to align this image with all I’d assumed about him. Beside him, Lucas and Jared were chatting as casually as if they were sharing a coffee with an old friend, not the reclusive man who’d glared at me with barely concealed menace from across the fence all week. Lucas leaned back, hands gesturing in animated arcs, while Jared poured a fresh cup, sliding it quietly toward the unexpected visitor.
My heart hammered like a frantic drum.
Why here? Why now? Mr. Albu had been crystal clear—keep your distance, stay out of things you don’t understand. Yet here he was, an uninvited guest in my kitchen, blending seamlessly into my roommates’ morning routine.
I hesitated in the entryway, eyes darting between Lucas and Jared. They didn’t even glance my way, absorbed instead in a lively discussion about—of all things—the stock market.
Stock market?
Scrutinizing Mr. Albu again, I struggled to reconcile the image of the grim, brooding neighbor with the man nodding along like a seasoned investor. It didn’t fit. He didn’t strike me as someone who’d care about shares and bonds; if anything, I thought he barely kept a bank account.
“Aidan,” Jared greeted, lifting his mug in a casual toast. “It’s the neighbor,” he added, as if I somehow needed the reminder.
I kept silent, my throat parched and a deep unease knotting in my stomach.
“Morning, Aidan,” Mr. Albu said with a curt nod, his voice polite but distant, as though we were strangers rather than adversaries shadowed by secrets.
I narrowed my eyes but met his gaze. Forcing a stiff reply, I pulled out a chair and sat beside him. “Morning.”
There was something about Mr. Albu that always set me on edge—the way his eyes seemed to gauge every word and movement, as if he was perpetually strategizing. Or maybe it was the knowledge that the creature in his backyard was part of whatever dark world he inhabited. Either way, the pit in my gut deepened.
“What brings you here?” I asked carefully, trying to sound neutral.
Lucas stirred sugar into his coffee, acting as if this was an utterly ordinary occurrence. “He asked us to water his plants while he’s away,” Lucas explained smoothly.
“He’s visiting his grandkids in Russia for a few days,” Jared added, shrugging as though that was the most mundane thing in the world.
My head snapped toward Mr. Albu, disbelief flashing across my face.
Russia? Grandkids?
His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. “Unfortunately, your boys are too busy, and my plants require afternoon watering.” His tone was light, casual—yet his eyes held a glint I couldn’t read.
Jared seized the opportunity immediately. “Aidan works from home in the afternoons. He could do it.”
My heart sank.
I shot Jared a glare as if willing him to drop the idea. He didn’t even flinch.
“Is that so?” Mr. Albu mused, turning his piercing gaze on me. There was a strange, private amusement in his look. Like we shared a secret that only he understood.
“No,” I said quickly. “I’d be too busy.”
Jared sighed heavily and grabbed my arm, pulling me aside. “Come on, man, it’s just watering some plants. Two minutes. Not a big deal.”
I yanked my arm free. “Why do you care?”
He glanced nervously back at Mr. Albu, as if sensing the old man might overhear. “Because Mr. Albu has deep pockets and wants to invest in my brokerage. I can’t afford to blow this.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then you water the plants.”
“I can’t—I’ve got a real job.”
“Then it’s not my problem.”
Jared groaned. “I’ll pay you.”
“Oh, how generous.” I scoffed. “Have you seen that house? Heard the rumors? I’m not stepping foot in there.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “Are you a kid? Afraid of a few cobwebs? Grow up.”
“No.” My voice was firm.
The room fell into a thick silence, the morning light filtering unevenly through the window and casting long shadows over the cluttered kitchen table. Mr. Albu finished his coffee, setting the cup down with deliberate calm.
“Think about it, Aidan,” he said quietly, his voice low and smooth. “Some alliances are worth the risk.”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t ready to make any decisions—especially not those tethered to a man who kept demons chained in his backyard.
But as he stood and headed toward the door, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze lingering on me—an unspoken challenge, a warning veiled in civility.
Once the door clicked shut, the uneasy quiet returned to the apartment.
Lucas shrugged, sipping his coffee. “Well, that was unexpected.”
I sank back into my chair, rubbing my temples. “Yeah. Unexpected is one word for it.”
The air felt heavier somehow, as if the simple request to water a few plants carried the weight of something far darker—something I wasn’t ready to face. And yet, ignoring it felt like stepping deeper into the shadows.
For now, I’d keep my distance, but the line between watching and getting involved was blurring fast. The nightshade chains were tightening, and I was caught in their grip—whether I liked it or not.