That’s when I saw it.
Near the fence line, half hidden in the shadows of the pines, something moved.
At first, I thought it was a deer. The shape was low, quiet, and careful. But then it straightened. Tall. Broad. Human.
My heart lurched.
The figure paused, still as stone. Even from this distance, I could feel the weight of its stare. Then it turned and slipped into the trees, vanishing as silently as it had appeared.
The glass shook in my hand. Water sloshed over my fingers. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
The back door creaked open behind me. I spun, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
“Hey.” Linc’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp, already searching my face. “You, okay?”
“I,” My throat tightened. “Someone’s out there.”
He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t doubt me for a second. He crossed the room in three strides, his movements fast but precise.
“How long ago?”
“Seconds.” I swallowed hard. “He was by the fence.”
He flipped the porch light on. The yellow glow reached only halfway across the yard, illuminating the first line of drifts. The snow glittered untouched. No sign of movement now.
He turned back to me, voice low. “Go upstairs. Stay there.”
“Lincoln.”
“Please, Kris.” His tone was soft but final. The kind of tone that carried both fear and command.
I nodded, throat thick, and backed toward the stairs. He waited until I was gone before moving again.
Through the crack in the bedroom door, I heard the metallic click of the gun safe, then the soft creak of the back door. A moment later, the muffled crunch of his boots on snow drifted up through the stillness.
I pressed a hand to my chest and forced myself to breathe. My heart thudded against my ribs, wild and uneven.
Outside, the wind picked up, low and restless. I stepped to the window and peered out across the white expanse of the yard. The light from the porch still burned, casting a golden circle that barely touched the barn. Beyond that, the dark stretched endlessly.
I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him out there. Linc. Moving through the night like a man who had done this before. Quiet, steady, deliberate.
A single light flicked on near the barn. Then another near the paddock. He was working his way around the perimeter.
The longer I watched, the colder the house felt. My breath fogged against the glass. Every creak and whisper from the windsounded like footsteps. I wrapped my arms tight around myself, willing the world to stay still.
“Please,” I whispered, voice barely there. “Let it be nothing.”
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t nothing.
It was the start of something.
And whatever it was, it had finally come to find us.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LINC
The cold hit me the second I stepped out the door. The kind of sharp, merciless cold that crept straight through layers and found the skin underneath. My breath came out in a white fog that hung in the still air before drifting away. The night was so quiet it felt like the sound itself had frozen solid.
