By the time I reach the porch, the key shakes in my hand as I lock the door behind me.
Outside, the air tastes sharp and electric. The vines sway in the wind, whispering things I don’t want to hear.
I look down at the key once more, then slip it back into my pocket. I already know I’ll use it again.
Something in me crossed a line tonight.
And I don’t think I’ll ever find my way back.
CHAPTER 15
Raine
The light is alreadysoft when I open my eyes. I blink against the brightness and stretch, letting myself fully wake.
For a few seconds, I don’t remember falling asleep. Only the feeling of exhaustion wrapping me up until even the TV couldn’t keep me awake.
Now the laugh track is gone, replaced by the hush of the morning news, birdsong, and the slow tick of the hallway clock.
Something feels wrong.
Not loud or obvious—justoff.
The air smells different. Cooler. Like the window’s been open even though I know I shut it.
I sit up, blinking toward the thin stripe of sunlight cutting across the floor. The covers are tucked neatly around me, like I’d done it half asleep.
Still, my skin prickles.
The house creaks in that old bones way, settling after the night’s chill. It shouldn’t sound unfamiliar, but it does.
I climb out of bed and pad toward the bathroom.
And that’s when I realize my first problem—I’m not wearing panties.
The events of last night hit me like a train. What I thought was a dream about a masked man hovering over me, touching me, wasn’t.
Coldness settles into my bones as I brush my teeth, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t recognize the satisfied glow in my eyes. But I know what it’s from. Or rather, who.
The masked man.
The same man I saw during the storm.
I rinse my mouth, then pad toward the stairs, my bare feet silent against the worn wood.
The smell of rain lingers in the air, mixed with something else—metal and earth.
A feeling that someone was inside my house is pervasive, rattling me to my core.
When I reach the landing, the living room sits exactly as I left it.
I wander through the foyer, checking the downstairs. The mug on the counter, the half-written to-do list on the fridge, and the nightlights still glow faintly in the corners.
I exhale, forcing a laugh. “Get a grip, Raine.”
Still, I check the front door. It’s locked, the deadbolt tight. So are the side entrance, mudroom, and cellar doors.
Everything’s fine.
