Love At First Death

The next morning, Elysia woke up to the sound of papers rustling and the faint clinking of metal. She groaned, turning over on the makeshift cot Damien had set up for her in a corner of his office. The dull fluorescent light buzzed above her, and she squinted against it, her hair a mess of white strands tangled around her face.

Damien, of course, was already up. He stood by his desk, meticulously cleaning a set of medical tools with the precision of someone who probably didn't know how to relax.

"Morning," Elysia mumbled, her voice scratchy.

Damien didn't look up. "You snore."

"I do not!"

He finally glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "You kept me up half the night."

She glared at him, clutching the blanket tighter around her. "Maybe you were just too busy being grumpy to sleep."

"Grumpiness doesn't cause insomnia," he replied flatly, returning to his tools.

"Whatever," she muttered, sitting up and stretching. Her stomach growled loudly, and she winced. "Um… do you have anything to eat around here?"

Damien set down the tool in his hand and gave her a long, measured look. "This isn't a bed-and-breakfast."

"I know that," she said defensively. "But you're the one who told me to stay here, so technically, it's your responsibility to feed me."

"I don't recall agreeing to that."

Elysia crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. "Are you seriously going to let me starve?"

Damien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. There's a vending machine down the hall. Take some coins from the drawer."

She brightened immediately. "Thanks!"

"But," he added, fixing her with a sharp look, "don't let anyone see you. And don't wander off."

"Yes, boss," she said with a mock salute, hopping off the cot.

She rummaged through the desk drawer, grabbing a handful of coins, and slipped out of the office. The hallway was eerily quiet, and the fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting strange shadows on the walls. Elysia quickened her pace, trying not to think about how creepy the morgue felt at night– or early morning, for that matter.

The vending machine stood at the end of the hallway, a beacon of fluorescent light and junk food. She fished out the coins and fed them into the machine, pressing the button for a bag of chips.

As the bag dropped with a satisfying thud, she heard a noise behind her– a soft shuffle, like footsteps.

She froze, her heart racing. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes scanning the empty hallway.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly.

No response.

She grabbed the chips and hurried back to the office, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Damien glanced up as she burst through the door, her face pale. "What's wrong?"

"I think… I think someone's out there," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression darkened, and he set down the tools he'd been cleaning. "Stay here."

"What? No way!" she protested. "What if it's that detective?"

"Exactly why you need to stay hidden," he said firmly, grabbing his coat.

Before she could argue further, he slipped out the door, leaving her alone with her bag of chips and a gnawing sense of dread.

Damien moved silently through the hallways, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow and corner. He didn't believe in coincidences, and the timing of Harper's visit last night was too convenient to ignore.

He rounded a corner and stopped abruptly, his gaze locking onto a figure standing at the far end of the hallway.

It wasn't Harper.

The man was tall and lanky, dressed in a shabby suit that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. His face was gaunt, and his eyes were wild, darting around like a cornered animal.

"Can I help you?" Damien asked, his voice cold and steady.

The man flinched, his gaze snapping to Damien. For a moment, he didn't speak, just stood there trembling.

"Leave," Damien said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I– I was just… looking for something," the man stammered, backing away.

Damien's eyes narrowed. "This is private property. Get out before I call the authorities."

The man hesitated for a second longer before turning and bolting down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows.

Damien stood there for a moment, his jaw tight. Something about the encounter didn't sit right with him.

When he returned to the office, Elysia was pacing nervously.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Just a trespasser," he said, brushing past her.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

She frowned, not entirely convinced. "You're hiding something."

"I'm hiding you," he shot back, sitting down at his desk. "That's enough to deal with for one day."

Elysia huffed but didn't press further. Still, the uneasy feeling lingered between them, like a shadow neither of them could shake.