Page 109 of Kentrell

My fingers subconsciously brushed my wrist where the emerald watch now sat, snug and glinting in the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window.

He always knew.

And I was starting to love that about him.

As I moved from the sink to the island, I made a quiet promise to myself—to stop running from the truth swirling inside me.

I was hooked.

In just a few weeks, Kentrell had unraveled me with his presence, his patience, and that impossible mix of grit and tenderness. And despite every part of me that once prided itself on control, I didn’t want to fight it anymore.

The kitchen was wrapped in shadow, the kind of stillness that almost begged to be disturbed. My eyes adjusted slowly,mapping the dark corners out of habit. The only sound was the low, constant hum of the fridge, steady as a heartbeat.

That’s when I saw it.

The basement door.

Slightly open.

Wider than I’d left it.

I frowned, setting my glass down without a sound. Something about it felt off. Not alarming, not yet. Just… off.

Curiosity rose like a whisper. I moved toward the door with slow, careful steps, my silk robe whispering against my legs. As I nudged it open farther, the scent of my luxury air freshener hit me—warm linen, clean woods, and just a hint of bergamot. I’d chosen it specifically because it reminded me of the W Hotel's plush comforters. The kind of scent that made even the chill of an unfinished basement feel expensive.

But tonight, that same scent layered over a tension I couldn’t place.

I stood at the top of the stairs, squinting into the dim stairwell. The lights were off, but the faintest glow crept from under the door at the bottom—my laundry room, probably. Nothing unusual. Nothing threatening.

Still, my breath slowed.

I wasn’t scared.

Not really.

Just… aware.

Hyper-aware.

Something had shifted. In me. In this house.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I began descending the stairs, each step slow and cautious. The air down here was cooler, still perfumed by the soft, luxe scent of my favorite air freshener wafting through the vents. When I reached the basement hallway, the plush carpet cushioned my bare feet as I noticed something else—the theater room door.

Slightly open.

And the light was still on.

I frowned.

Another step forward—and that’s when I heard it.

Slurping.

Muffled moans.

My heart jolted.

Then, clear as day, Stacia’s voice rang out:

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