Maren Solace believed herself a shadow, a silent pair of hands drifting through the Vesper estate. She polished their silver until it gleamed like cold weapons. She slipped through halls where portraits leaned as if listening. She slept in an attic room that locked from the outside. Invisible, she thought. Forgettable. But the Vespers saw her too clearly. Thorne watched her with hunger he tried and failed to cage. Elise returned from university with velvet claws, wanting her stepfather and wanting Maren even more. Celestine glided through the house with a smile so polished it hid an entire lake of secrets beneath it. Their gazes followed Maren through every corridor, a dangerous kind of attention that pulsed like heat under her skin. She should have run. Desire is an elegant kind of trap. It closes quietly. Then Jonah knocked on the door. Sweet, harmless Jonah from next door, drawn by flickering lights and a scream no one admitted to hearing. He stepped inside to help. Instead, he walked straight into the Vespers' web. Elise toyed with him. Thorne tried to warn him. Celestine studied him like a new game. And Jonah, poor Jonah, looked to Maren for safety. Safety does not exist in this house. The estate began to hum with tension, its walls breathing, its shadows lengthening, its people tightening around one another in something far too intimate and far too close to violent. A throuple that should never have formed twisted into a storm waiting for its first body. The Vespers think they understand the darkness creeping through their home.They think they know who is prey.They think they know who is weak. But they do not know Maren Solace.Not really. In this quiet kind of ruin, the most dangerous creature in the house might be the girl who learned how to survive by never being seen at all.