Laughter.
Soft. Chilling. Wrong.
I jerk my head out from behind the curtain. “Hello?”
Nothing.
I skip the conditioner, fingers slipping through my hair once before I give up. The towel’s barely on me before I’m ripping it off the hook and scrubbing myself dry in frantic, uneven swipes. My pulse thuds in my throat, too loud, too fast. I drag my clothes on, fabric clinging to damp, and leave my hair dripping down my back.
Mayhem unleashes.
Crash!
Something flies off the counter behind me.
I whirl around to find a hairbrush thrown to the floor, but nothing is there.
Bang!
Another item slams to the floor. A shampoo bottle this time.
What is going on?
I turn towards the mirror to find something drawing through the steam on the glass. Nobody is there, but the picture is forming.
A stormcloud.
Something is haunting me. I bolt.
My footsteps echo down the hallway — too fast, too loud. The lights above me flicker again. Once. Twice. The shadows stretch long and claw-like.
I glance over my shoulder, chest heaving, to see if anyone is following me.
I still see nothing, but it feels like something’s there. A small, fragile jerk that makes me want to turn around.
I pick up the pace, arms clutching my damp clothes, hair dripping down my back. I round the corner—and slam into something solid.
Not something. Someone.
I sway, absolutely about to eat floor—until someone’s grip lands on my shoulder, steady as stone, and another arm hooks around my waist, hauling me upright like I weigh nothing.
Atticus.
“Whoa,” he says, voice low and gentle. “It’s just me.”
Breath tangles in my throat, tight and hot. My heartbeat hammers so hard it trembles through my whole chest.
“Arwen?” His eyes search mine, concern etched into every line of his face. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” It comes out in a rush. I try to slip away.
He doesn’t let me. Not rough—just a soft, anchoring pressure. “Don’t lie,” he murmurs. “I felt it.”
Everything inside me stops at once.
“Through the bond. Your fear. It hit me like a wave. I couldn’t ignore it, so I came looking. Is it Maddox?”
His touch shifts, gentle now, his hands settling around me like I’m something fragile.
