Duress.

I had gone to bed. The lights were off, my tablet and phone charging on the nightstand, hair tucked under my bonnet. My midnight prayer had left me calm, the night folding around me like a familiar blanket. Outside, the city hummed softly, oblivious to the small apartment perched above the street.

Then the knock came. Sharp. Insistent. My heart jumped. One fifty-four. I checked the clock again, disbelief sharpening every nerve. The doorbell rang, tinny and impossible to ignore.

"Who is it?!", I called, keeping the chain fastened.

"It is Jonah", came the voice. Calm but urgent. Smooth. Controlled. Impossibly confident. There was an undercurrent of desperation, but also that old arrogance, the certainty that I would open the door.

I peeked through the peephole. He was standing there, composed and clean, his car parked outside, fully capable of finding another place to stay. And yet he leaned on the threshold as if he had every right to be here.

"Jonah, what are you doing here at this hour?", I asked cautiously.

"I am in trouble", he said quietly. "Someone is after me. I cannot stay out there. Please, I just need somewhere safe, just for the night."

I frowned. "Your car...", I said. "...You could go anywhere else."

He shook his head, dark eyes glinting in the hall light. "Anywhere else is unsafe...", he said. "...I only feel safe here. With you."

I hesitated. Instinct pulled one way, curiosity another. "Fine", I said finally. "You can wait in the living room. I will not be long."

He stepped inside with that casual confidence that had always been infuriating. He brushed off his coat as if the apartment had always belonged to him. He took the couch, crossed his legs, and leaned back. I stood for a moment, staring at him, suddenly aware of how small the apartment had become, how loud my own thoughts sounded.

"Would you like some tea?"I asked, voice soft, trying to anchor the moment in something ordinary.

He shook his head faintly. "I have water", I said.

"That will do", he murmured.

"Have you eaten?" I tried again.

"Not yet", he said simply, and I nodded.

I gathered the throw blankets and cushions, arranging a makeshift pillow on the couch.

"I live alone...", I said, more to myself than him."... I do not have much, but you could use these, sleep on the couch, and in the morning we will figure out what to do."

He leaned back, fingers brushing the cushion absentmindedly.

"Do you think you could manage any sleep?" I asked, quieter this time, feeling the weight of the apartment shift around us.

"I guess", he said, eyes distant.

I returned to my bed, pulse hammering, covers tangled around me. The apartment felt heavier than usual, filled with a quiet energy I could not place. Somehow, despite my anxiety and racing thoughts, exhaustion claimed me. It was as if the air itself pressed me down, as if the presence of someone so impossible had lulled me into surrender.

The apartment fell silent. Outside, the city hummed. Inside, he began to move.

At first, it was subtle. Muscles flexed beneath his skin. Veins stood out like black rivers. His jaw shifted. Teeth sharpened. Fur erupted in bristling waves along his shoulders and arms. Nails lengthened, curving into obsidian claws. His eyes ignited molten gold, glowing with a predatory light that seemed alive.

He rose from the couch. Limbs stretched unnaturally. Spine arched. A tail coiled behind him. Shadows clung to the walls, bending and trembling under the energy he exuded. Every motion was fluid, controlled, and yet utterly alien.

The transformation consumed him. Muscle, sinew, and fur rearranged into something neither human nor beast. A presence that seemed to draw the air itself into his wake. His eyes, still intelligent and arrogant, now burned with something feral and insatiable.

He moved toward the hallway. Claws scraped softly against the hardwood. The air throbbed around him, as though the apartment itself vibrated with the energy he carried. Step by step, he approached my bedroom door.

And I slept. I did not fight. I did not awaken. The overwhelming energy he brought, the weight of his presence, the strange exhaustion that had settled in my body, kept me under its spell.

He stopped at the doorway of my room. Silent. Massive. Impossible. Watching. Waiting. The night held its breath. Outside, the city continued its indifferent hum. Inside, my apartment smelled faintly of toothpaste and perfume.

And there he waited. And I slept. Unaware. Powerless. Unprepared.