Ivy’s POV
I was still fuming when I stormed into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. The anger wasn’t truly directed at Leo anymore, yet it clung to me like a stubborn shadow. My heart pounded, but it wasn’t rage fueling it—it was fear, confusion, and something far worse: memories.
I paced back and forth, rubbing my hands together, trying to shake the unease crawling over my skin.
This is the second time Leo is chasing after an intruder in my home. My father had designed my room to be a fortress, a place where I could always feel safe. He built it with a hidden panic room—his way of protecting me after what happened to his first daughter. But right now, even that reassurance couldn’t steady my nerves.
That’s when I heard it—a hum, soft and distant at first, but chillingly familiar. My body froze, every muscle locked in place. No. It can’t be.
But it was.