“Get away from the window,” Jack orders in my ear. I can hear other voices behind him now, cars, movement. “Out of his line of sight, Twig. Move.”
I drop to a crouch so fast my knees crack, adrenaline roaring in my ears, and crawl toward the kitchen. I’ll put the island between us…if he breaks the glass, I’ll grab a knife. No, I’ll grab a knife now, and then I’ll run if he breaks the glass…
Except there is nowhere to run. This is a studio apartment.
“Jack—” I raise up and fumble for the butcher knife in the block on the counter.
“I’m coming to you. Deputies are closer, they’re en route. Stay on the phone. Don’t open the door. Don’t talk to him.”
Too late.
“Did you miss me?” Henry asks, breath fogging the glass, his gaze tracking my movements. “I missed you.”
I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
“Jack,” I whisper, “please tell me you’re almost here.”
Tires squeal faintly through the phone. “Hold on. I’m three minutes out.”
Three minutes. A lifetime. No time at all.
Henry’s hand moves on the glass, skittering around the frame, slow and deliberate. The storm window rattles, and he utters a low curse, then taps one finger against the pane, a metronome made of threat.
“You know what happens to smart girls who stick their noses where they don’t belong?” he murmurs.
My pulse hammers. My brain catalogs everything—the angle of his shoulders, the way his weight sits on his right leg, the scar at his hairline.
Part of me is already matching new information to old files. Part of me wants to curl into a ball on the floor.
I force myself to breathe instead.
“You’re not going to touch me,” I say, and I’m almost impressed by how steady I sound. “This town isn’t yours. It never was. You’re just another man who thinks he’s the main character and isn’t.”
His smile drops an inch.
Good.
Without warning, he draws his fist back and slams it dead center in the lower pane of glass. It cracks, and I scream and leap back.
Fuck. Motherfuck, fuck a duck, he’s going to get in before Jack gets here—
Even as the thought crosses my mind, sirens sound in the distance. Henry looks from me to his hand, dripping blood, and shrugs. “I’ll be seeing you, Tallulah Gentry. Round one to you, but the game is just beginning. Shiloh got away from me, spoiled all the fun…” He pauses and takes a step back. “...her friends won’t be as lucky.”
Red and blue lights flicker faintly across my ceiling.
“Twig!” Jack’s voice snaps, audible through the phone’s speaker. “We’re outside. He’s moving. Stay down.”
There’s a flurry of motion at the window, and Henry’s face melts into the darkness. The heavy thud of boots pounds a retreat on the fire escape.
Shouts. Doors. The echo of commands I can’t make out.
I stay crouched on the floor, phone pressed to my ear, fingers locked around it so tight they go numb. The little glass hummingbird swings on its branch above me, casting jittery flecks of color over the walls.
Eventually, the front door shudders under controlled pounding.
“Twiggy. It’s Jack.”
I stumble to my feet and unchain the lock with fingers that don’t want to work. Jack steps in, gun still drawn, eyes hard and scanning every corner as though Henry somehow managed to get by him and into my apartment. Another deputy lingers on the walkway behind him.
