I surfaced slowly, like dragging myself up through thick fog.

My room came into focus in fragments — the carved Victorian ceiling, the familiar dark wood, the faint hum of the old heater my father insisted on keeping even though none of us needed it. Morning light seeped through the heavy curtains, muted and grey the way Forgotten Hollow always was. It never got bright here. Just… less dark.

I blinked against it, disoriented, my body heavy, my mind sluggish.

Then I saw her.

Cerys sat with her back to me, shoulders slightly drawn in, hands resting in her lap. The pale morning glow caught in her hair, outlining her in a soft halo. For a moment — a brief, aching moment — she looked unreal.

An angel in a place that had never known angels.

A smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it.

I lifted my hand toward her.

She turned at the movement, eyes widening just a little when she saw I was awake. She stood, crossed the room, and took my hand gently, her fingers steady against mine. She sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could sense her presence the way I always did — a quiet, grounding weight in the room.

“Hey…” I murmured, voice rough.

“Hey.” Her tone was soft — but somber. Too somber.

A quiet warning I didn’t want to hear.

I tried to pull her closer, the way I always did, the way she always let me.

She resisted.

Just a slight tension in her arm — but enough.

Then she stood.

Something inside me tightened.

“Cerys?” I pushed myself upright, ignoring the way my muscles protested. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t look at me at first. She stared at the floor, gathering herself, and when she finally turned, her eyes were steady in a way that made the room feel smaller.

“Damon…” A breath she didn’t need, more habit than function. “I think we shouldn’t.”

My mind snapped fully awake.

“Shouldn’t what?” My voice cracked. “Cerys, what are you talking about?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, like the words hurt.

When she opened them, they were full of something I couldn’t name — sorrow, maybe. Or resignation.

“You know why.”

I shook my head, too fast. “No. I don’t. Cerys, please—”

“I’m not a fool, Damon.” Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t shake. That made it worse. “There are things happening in your life… things you haven’t even processed yet. And I don’t think you know where you’re going with all of this.”

She swallowed, her throat working.

“Let alone where — or how — or if — I fit into it.”

The words hit harder than any blow I’d taken in battle.

I opened my mouth — nothing came out. My mind was still fogged, still trying to piece together the fragments of last night. The restaurant. The baby. The eyes. Leonie. The scream. The darkness swallowing me whole.

Cerys watched the realization flicker across my face.

And she stepped back.

Not far. Just enough.

Enough to feel like a door closing.

I reached for her again, slower this time, like approaching something fragile.

“Cerys… don’t do this. Please. Just talk to me.”

She shook her head, eyes shining but not breaking.

“I am talking to you. That’s the problem. You’re not ready to hear any of it.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.” Her voice softened, but the softness hurt more than anger ever could. “You’re still in the middle of something, Damon. Something big. Something life‑changing. And you don’t even know the shape of it yet.”

I felt the room tilt. My thoughts scattered. My hands curled into the blanket without meaning to.

“Cerys—”

“You collapsed in front of me last night,” she whispered. “You terrified me. And when you woke up, the first thing you did was reach for me like nothing happened.”

Her eyes glistened.

“But something did happen. Who was that girl, Damon? And that baby? Please, do not tell me this is what I think it is.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I just— I need time to—”

“That’s exactly it.” She stepped back again. “You need time. Space. Clarity. And I can’t be the thing you cling to while you’re falling apart.”

Her voice cracked then — just barely.

“I won’t let myself be that.”

The words gutted me.

I tried to stand — my legs trembled, unsteady — and I sank back onto the bed, helpless.

“Cerys… don’t walk away from me.”

She closed her eyes, pain flickering across her face.

“I’m not walking away.” A beat. “I’m stepping back.”

Which somehow felt worse.

She turned toward the door.

“Cerys—”

She paused, hand on the frame, shoulders tight.

“I care about you, Damon. More than I should.” A breath she didn’t need. “But I won’t compete with the ghosts in your life. Or the ones you haven’t faced yet.”

And then she left.

Quietly. Softly. Like she didn’t want to disturb the house.

Romeo Reloaded

The door clicked shut behind her.

For a moment, I just stared at it, stunned, like my mind couldn’t process what had just happened. Then something inside me snapped.

No.

No, she wasn’t walking away from me. Not like this. Not after everything.

I shoved myself off the bed so fast the room tilted. My legs buckled, and I caught the dresser with one hand, steadying myself just enough to lurch toward the door. My balance was garbage, my coordination worse, but none of it mattered.

I wasn’t letting her go.

I stumbled into the hallway, half‑running, half‑falling, grabbing the banister to swing myself toward the stairs. My foot slipped on the top step — and I pitched forward.

A strong arm caught me across the chest.

“Easy, son.”

My father’s voice — low, steady, unmistakable.

Connell O’Cavanaugh stood above me, silvery‑blonde hair falling slightly into his violet eyes, looking like he’d stepped out of a portrait instead of real life. He held me upright with the same effortless strength he always had.

“I don’t have time—” I tried to twist out of his grip.

“You don’t have balance,” he corrected, tightening his hold. “Where exactly are you planning to go in your current state? You’re supposed to stay in bed, not run about like a chicken with the head cut off. Besides, your mother and I would like to talk to you, now that you’re awake and obviously ready to take on the world. Got some updates I am sure you want to hear.”

“Dad, not now!” I snapped, shoving at his arm. “She’s leaving!”

He blinked once, then sighed — the long‑suffering kind only a father of three could master. “Of course she is. And of course, you have to chase her even though you can’t barely keep upright.”

I didn’t wait for the lecture. I tore myself free, nearly tripping again, and barreled down the stairs. I heard him mutter something behind me — probably about stubbornness being hereditary — but I didn’t care. Normally I would have used vampiric speed but none of that worked yet. Vampires usually recover fast, unless poisoned by witches’ brew, evidently.

I shoved open the front door and sprinted across the porch, ignoring the way my legs wobbled with every step.

Cerys was already at the gate.

“Cerys!” I shouted.

She froze. Half-turned, her eyes widened at my very unrefined hasty approach.

I reached her just as she touched the latch, my arm crashing into the gate, grabbing the iron bars to steady myself.

“Don’t go,” I said, voice raw and hoarse from the strenuous chase. “Please. Don’t.”

She turned slowly, her expression guarded, her eyes soft but hurting.

“Damon… you shouldn’t be out here. You need to rest.”

“I need you.”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s exactly the problem. You don’t know what you want, nor what you need. Damon, last night changed everything.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head hard. “No, it did not. And that’s not the problem. You’re wrong about all of it. We belong. I don’t know what happened last night, I will figure it out, but I want you, Cerys. You are everything.”

“Am I?” she whispered. “Who was that girl last night? I feel like I walked from one storyline into a complete new one, and I don’t even know who the protagonists are in that one.”

“Yes, you are and that’s a long story, which I promise I will tell you. YOU are the main character in MY story, Cerys.” I stepped closer, gripping the gate so tightly the metal creaked. “My feelings for you are real. They’re not confusion. They’re not panic. They’re not some… emotional crutch or whatever you might be thinking.”

“Damon—”

“I don’t need clarity about us,” I said, cutting her off. “I only need clarity about one thing — the baby. How to deal with it. That’s it. I’ll figure something out. Everything else is crystal clear to me.”

Her eyes flickered, uncertainty breaking through her resolve.

“Damon, did you even stop and wonder how I might feel about all that? You and I, us, this whole thing is beyond awkward, now there is a baby involved? Out of the blue? You say you want me but …”

I pressed on.

“You think I don’t know what I want?” I asked. “Cerys, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I admit, before you, there was Leonie. I thought I loved her, but she and I met a total of two times, she was an obsession. An unhealthy one. Now, after meeting you, I am sure of it. I didn’t even know how real something can actually feel until you. I know being with an Enforcer is never easy, but at least we are … the same. I thought dating a mortal would be okay, but after meeting you I feel that was nothing but a fool’s errand to find you. You know our kind doesn’t have a huge dating pool and explaining who and what we are to a mortal is always a huge risk. Us meeting was fate. I have never been more convinced of something in my entire life. This was … it was … it is …”

“Serendipity?”

“Yes. And I love you.”

She froze.
I froze.
Did I really just drop the L-word on a girl I met while unconscious? Jeeze Damon, wow. Okay, so that happened.

Then shook her head.

“Damon, I don’t think you know what you feel. You are grateful because I was there when you were at your most vulnerable, and I helped you get better, so you might be projecting, after all you have been through, that’s not uncommon, some sort of savior-syndrome. A lot of medical staff experiences that sooner or later. Once you get better and start thinking clearly again, you will probably realize …”

I stepped even closer, gripping the gate between us like a crutch of sorts as my legs were shaking. I couldn’t say for sure if it was the injuries or the situation. Yeah, I wasn’t ready for this kind of excitement, and I just prayed I wasn’t going to blackout again.

“I love you,” I repeated. “And I’m not saying it because I’m scared or confused or falling apart or because I am projecting or because you wiggled my toes and stretched my legs for me for months and weeks. I may still be functioning at half-speed, but I am still an Enforcer, trained to identify situations quickly and accurately and I’m saying it because it’s true.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“And I’ll prove it,” I said, voice rising. “I’ll shout it off the damn rooftops if I have to.”

“Damon, please don’t—”

Too late.

I threw my head back and yelled at the top of my lungs:

“CERYS WYNNE — I, DAMON O’CAVANAUGH, LOVE YOU!”

The words echoed across the quiet street, bouncing off the old stone walls and wrought‑iron fences. A couple walking their dog stopped mid‑stride and stared. A jogger slowed to a confused halt. Someone across the street peeked out their window. Two riders looked around confused, their horses dancing nervously. A bicyclist almost rode straight into someone’s fence.

Cerys looked like she’d forgotten how to blink.

“Damon—” she hissed, mortified.

Footsteps thundered behind me.

My father grabbed my arm with one hand and Cerys’ with the other, steering us both firmly back toward the house.

“All right, Romeo,” he said dryly. “That’s enough public declarations for one morning.”

“Dad— let go— I need to talk to her— privately!” I tried to wriggle free but in my current state I had not a prayer against him.

“Yeah, and you can do that inside,” he said, dragging me up the steps. “Preferably while wearing more clothing. You are still a Coven Enforcer, even if you are currently dormant. And you are still Vannucci lineage!”

“What—?”

I looked down, stumbling forward in my father’s grip.

Underwear. Just underwear.

No shirt. No pants. No dignity.

Cerys covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

And on the porch, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee, was my mother, Emmy — warm‑blonde hair loose around her face, brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

She wiped a tear of laughter from her cheek.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, voice bright with amusement. “Love watching my sweet baby boy make such a grand romantic gesture — but you could’ve at least put on pants. Threw off the whole aww-moment.”

Cerys snorted, then giggled outright. “No worries,” she said, trying to compose herself. “I’m used to unobstructed views of anatomy. Comes with the job.”

“Yeah,” Connell said, lifting his brows, “but we don’t need to give the whole town an in-depth analysis of my son’s anatomy right outside my house, which is right by the town square. If Cesare hears about this, it’ll be a lecture that takes up an entire day — and if I get dragged into that, I’m taking your butt with me, son and if I have to wheel you in there in your bed.”

I groaned into my hands as dad hauled me inside, Cerys following with her face flushed and her eyes still dancing until Mom wrapped an arm around her while kicking the front door shut behind us.

Mom and Dad corralled us to the dining room table, set us up with coffee, then joined us with matching parental “we need to talk” expressions.

Dad looked at Mom, she nodded, he nodded back, then he looked at me.

“Damon,” he began, his eyes moving to Cerys then back at me. “Last night brought some things to light that your mother and I wish we’d known sooner. Since when do you keep secrets from us?”

Cerys rose up “Oh, I think this is private and I shouldn’t be …”

“SIT.” my father barked — then, with a softer exhale and a small, almost apologetic hand gesture, added, “Please. I’m sure you want to hear this as well, considering how… involved… you already are in this family.”
No vampire would argue with an Enforcer, let alone in their home, so Cerys sunk back into her chair, Mom smiling at her encouraging.

“Dad…” I started, but he raised his hand.

“I wasn’t done. Turns out your grandfather knew about Leonie, and I didn’t? I am not easily offended but you would go to Caelan before me?”

“Dad… I didn’t! Remember after the last brief with Cesare when I asked you for help with tracking and grandfather just invited himself? It … it … it was ah—”

“I know what that was, Damon. I’m not worried about how you spend your time or with whom — you’re a grown man. But I do hold you responsible for making sure your temporary enjoyments of the flesh don’t lead to scenes like last night. You gave your sisters a scare, nearly gave poor Chase and Hailey heart attacks, and drew a lot of unnecessary attention — and all for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t call that nothing!” Cerys piped up, then cleared her throat. “Apologies. I spoke out of turn.”

“Well, with all due respect Cerys, I don’t care what you call it, but I call it nothing. Once we sat down with Hailey, Chase and that Leonie like grown adults, it became clear pretty quick that the baby isn’t yours — confirmed by the mother of said baby, who should know. She was very quick to add that she has a boyfriend, Damon. She met him after your little fling, at that club you — as she explained — hooked up at, while patiently waiting for you to show up again. And apparently it was love at first sight. The passionate kind. The kind where they were humping each other’s bones so enthusiastically, they created the next generation of Hansons — which, as Hailey assured us, was the very last thing that family needed. Hence why Chase and Hailey are stepping in to help her late brother’s family out since they have the resources and time for such nonsense. But all that isn’t our business, I only care about the timeline. So yes, you were involved in the creation of that baby, just not in the way you think. I never thought my family would turn into a daytime talk show, but here we are now.”

My stomach dropped. “So… the baby is definitely not mine? We’re absolutely sure? I mean, I am loving the news, just don’t want to fly high just to get shot down by another one of those … oops, overlooked this little part.”

Connell leaned back, folded his arms, and delivered the killing blow with perfect paternal dryness:

“Damon, her baby is a newborn — barely out of the hospital long enough to be safe to travel with. You were on a multi‑week mission with me and your grandfather when she conceived. Otherwise, the timing just doesn’t add up. That was almost ten months ago. She says it’s been almost a year since she last saw you, and considering your long convalescence, her math makes sense to your mother and me. Unless you can father children across state lines and time without being physically present — via some remote‑access astral‑projection reproduction skill I’ve never heard of — you didn’t make us grandparents. Thank God.”

He lifted a brow, warming up now.

“So yes, we are absolutely sure. As are the happy new parents — they’re saving every penny for a wedding Hailey is planning to steamroll them into paying for so she can go wild with her party planning addiction, but that is neither here nor there. Damon, you are a very special man, but not special enough to make the impossible plausible. You’re off the hook, kid. We all are.”

“Thank God,” Mom added dryly.

“You can say that again!” Dad huffed, sipping his coffee.

I stared at my father. Then at my mother.

Cerys stared at me.

Mom sipped her coffee like this was the best entertainment she’d had in decades.

“Look Damon, I already had two very complicated weddings to hastily and covertly plan for my daughters,” she said. “Which is something no mom wants to do. We all want our little girls to have the best and biggest weddings and look like the princesses they are to us, so since you are our last unmarried child, can you please not do complicated shit like your sisters, Damon? Just marry a sweet girl, preferably NOT someone off Cesare’ forbidden list, and then have a baby — or many babies — as many as you want, I will glady babysit an entire football team, but not anything cringe again, forcing us to sneak around Ravenwood or Moonwood Mill, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, Mom.”

I sighed and met Cerys’ eyes.

I winked.
She smiled.

“Will you stay?” I asked.

“I have other patients, Damon.”

“I am still your patient! Doesn’t Cesare have other medics?”

“There are plenty of medics, but you have been released from my care. You just need rest at this point — nothing I can help you with.”

“You can help me… rest.”

Connell groaned into his hands. “Oh Jesus Christ, son. We just solved one baby scare and you’re sprinting straight toward the next. How in the world did I raise myself a Casanova? I was never like that, neither was your mother! I need a drink.”

“Me too,” Mom muttered, already following him toward the kitchen. “Didn’t I just get through saying ‘wedding first, then babies’? Because I distinctly remember myself saying that. You heard me, right?”

“I heard ya. Maybe draw him a picture. He’s not hearing anything, and processing even less — all the blood flow to his brain is going elsewhere again…and it’s a lot, he just fed yesterday,” Connell grumbled as their voices faded down the hall.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that. Parents, right? Kinda awkward and cringeworthy.”

Cerys arched a brow. “Yeah, I’m beginning to think that’s your brand.”

“Hey, I’m Caelan Vannucci’s grandson. Did you really expect normal?”

“I did,” she said, deadpan. “And that’s on me.”

“Will you help me up the stairs, at least, Nurse Wynne?”

She closed her eyes like she was praying for strength, sighed, then rose and held out her hands.