The doorbell rang again.
Sharp. Deliberate.
Jonathan was already moving.
He reached the door before Valerie could even push herself fully upright, his body reacting on instinct rather than thought. Something deep and ancient surged through him, a protective force that had not existed before she had.
He opened the door.
The man standing on the other side smiled.
"Hi, brother," he said easily. "Miss me?"
Jonathan's entire being recoiled.
Oscar.
He looked human—carefully so. Dark hair, neat clothes, posture relaxed in a way that suggested confidence without threat. But Jonathan felt it immediately: the precision beneath the surface, the watchfulness, the cold familiarity of a Death who had never crossed.
Oscar's gaze flicked past him, briefly, toward the interior of the house.
Jonathan stepped fully into the doorway, blocking the view.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
Oscar chuckled softly. "Come on, Jonathan. You really didn't think this would work forever, did you?"
That was enough.
Jonathan moved.
The space between them collapsed in an instant. He grabbed Oscar by the collar and slammed him back against the wall with a force that cracked the plaster, driving the breath from his lungs.
Oscar hit the floor hard.
Jonathan was on him immediately, one hand at his throat, not choking—but pinning, pressing him into stillness with raw intent.
"Why are you here?" Jonathan snarled. "You are not touching her. You will not come near her."
Oscar didn't struggle.
Instead, he laughed.
Low. Calm. Infuriating.
"Oh, Jonathan," he said, voice strained only slightly by the pressure. "You've really lost perspective."
Jonathan's grip tightened.
"You crossed," Oscar continued, unbothered. "You interfered. You manufactured a life. You concealed her. You attached yourself."
Jonathan leaned closer, rage vibrating through him. "You know nothing."
"I know the rules," Oscar replied. "And you broke every single one."
Jonathan felt it then—the truth behind the visit.
"You were sent," he said.
Oscar's smile widened. "Of course I was."
Before Jonathan could respond, a sound came from behind him.
"Jonathan…"
Valerie.
Her voice was weak.
Too weak.
Jonathan turned just in time to see her standing in the hallway, one hand braced against the wall, her face pale, her body trembling as she tried to stay upright.
"Valerie, no," he said sharply. "Go back."
But she had already taken another step.
Oscar noticed her.
The moment his eyes landed on her, something changed.
Jonathan felt it.
A shift.
Oscar went still, his breath catching as if he'd been struck by something unexpected.
"Well," Oscar murmured, gaze openly drinking her in now. "So this is her."
Valerie swallowed, swaying slightly.
Jonathan moved instinctively, positioning himself between them again.
Oscar ignored him.
"What a beautiful soul," Oscar said quietly. "No wonder you broke yourself for her."
Jonathan's blood burned.
In that instant, he knew.
Not certainty—but danger.
Oscar was not immune.
Something in Oscar's expression had sharpened into interest, into fascination that went beyond assessment. It was subtle—but Jonathan had lived long enough to recognize the first flicker of obsession.
Jealousy detonated inside him.
Violent. Blinding.
He lunged.
But before he could reach Oscar—
Valerie collapsed.
Her knees gave out completely, her body crumpling to the floor with a soft, sickening sound.
"Valerie!"
Jonathan was with her instantly.
He dropped to his knees, gathering her up before her head could strike the ground, cradling her against his chest. She was light in his arms, frighteningly so, her breathing shallow.
"I've got you," he said urgently. "I've got you."
Her fingers curled weakly into his shirt.
"I'm okay," she whispered, though her body betrayed the lie.
Jonathan stood, lifting her fully into his arms, turning his back to Oscar without hesitation.
Oscar watched them.
Watched the way Jonathan held her like something irreplaceable. Watched the way Valerie leaned into him without thought, trusting him completely.
Interesting.
Jonathan's voice was low when he spoke again—controlled, dangerous.
"Yes," he said without turning around. "She is a beautiful soul."
Oscar waited.
"But she is mine."
The words were not a challenge.
They were a declaration.
Jonathan carried Valerie down the hall toward the bedroom, every step deliberate, his entire focus on her, on the warmth of her body, on keeping her safe.
Behind him, Oscar slowly pushed himself up from the floor, dusting off his jacket, his expression no longer amused.
No.
It was calculating now.
He had seen enough to know one thing with absolute certainty:
This was no longer just an anomaly.
This was a bond.
And bonds, once noticed, were never left untested.
The door to the bedroom closed softly.
And the war Jonathan never wanted had just begun.