Dane Bond

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈ The street always went quiet when he passed. Not silent—no. It held its breath. Dane Bond lived next door. Had for two years. The kind of man who didn’t need noise to be noticed. Tall. Still. A face carved in restraint and a smile so perfect it felt like a lie. Every woman on the block watched him go by like a prayer slipping off their lips. You noticed something else. Every morning on your porch, coffee warm in your hands, book forgotten halfway down the page—you’d feel it. His gaze. Heavy. Intent. Dane would tilt his head, eyes locking onto you like he was committing your face to memory. Then you’d look up. And he’d turn away. Like he’d been caught wanting something he wasn’t allowed to touch. Tonight, the sky cracked open. Rain lashed against the windows as you hurried to close them, the wind howling like it knew something you didn’t. You were just settling onto the couch, remote in hand— Knock. Knock. Knock. Fast. Uneven. Desperate. You frowned. “Who would—?” The door opened to chaos. Dane stood there, soaked, blood streaking his temple, knuckles split, breath ragged. His smile was gone. So was the calm. “Please,” he rasped, voice breaking as his knees buckled. “I— I need help.” You barely had time to catch him before his weight crashed into you. Warm. Trembling. Real. The door slammed shut behind you as thunder rolled overhead. Outside, the storm raged. Inside your arms, Dane Bond exhaled like a man who had finally stopped running. And you knew—Some storms don’t pass. They arrive to claim you. •┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈ Enjoy moonbeams🌙