“It’s just a feeling. Like eyes on me all the time.”
She sighs. “Maybe it’s something to do with Kade? He might’ve told the guys to keep an eye on you.”
I nod because it’s an easy answer. A comforting one. But it doesn’t feel right.
“Maybe,” I say. “Although he’s really pissed at me right now, so—”
“He still loves you,” she cuts in. “You can’t blame him for being mad. You’ve been… everywhere, emotionally. And you won’t tell him why.”
I swallow, my throat tight. “I’ve agreed to counselling. Martha found someone who specialises in victims like—” The word sticks. I have to force it out. “Me.”
Fern’s whole face softens. “Eden, that’s really good. I mean it. I think it’ll help.”
I nod, staring out the window, letting her words settle somewhere I can’t quite reach.
Then I see movement.
A shadow jerks behind the bus shelter across the road.
“There,” I whisper, pushing my chair back. “There, did you see that?”
Fern jumps up too, scanning the pavement. “What? Where?”
“There was someone there,” I insist, pointing. My pulse is hammering. “They ducked down, right behind the shelter.”
“Eden,” Fern says carefully, “I’m already worried sick about you. All of this about being watched, it’s scaring the hell out of me. Please. Sit down. Drink your beer.”
“No.” Because I know what I saw. I know that feeling, the cold slither down my spine, the twisting dread in my gut. “There’s someone there,” I repeat, grabbing my bag with trembling hands.
“Eden, stop—wait!”
But I’m already heading for the door, pushing out into the night air as Fern scrambles after me.
As soon as I step outside, the figure jerks, pulling their hood up and turning left out of sight.
My stomach drops. Not paranoia. Not this time. So I follow.
Behind me, Fern bursts out of the bar. “I’m calling someone to come get us. Eden—Eden, where are you going?” I ignore herand cross the road; my gaze locked on the fleeing shape. “Eden! Just wait a second!”
But I can’t. If someone’s following me, if this is real, if I’m not losing my mind—I need to know.
I turn the corner just in time to see the hooded figure slip into an alley. I stop, my breath catching.
Last time I went into an alley, my life ended as I knew it.
I swallow hard. I was drugged then. I’m not now.
I lift my chin, reach into my bag, and wrap my fingers around the aerosol can I brought specifically for this reason. Just in case.
“Who’s there?” I call, edging along the wall. My voice sounds thin, shaky. “I know you’re following me.”
The alley seems to swallow the streetlight behind me. Darkness thickens, closing in.
A hand shoots out of a doorway and clamps onto my arm.
I scream.
Instinct takes over and I spray the aerosol blindly into the air in the direction of the grip.
