Whoisthis man? I’ve never seen him with my ex-husband or Jessica. He’s not a friend, not a business partner—I would’ve noticed him before. And yet, here he is, gripping that shovel like it’s an extension of his rage, his entire body radiating something dark and seething.
And the weirdest part? He’s staringrightat the willow tree.
My heart—my dead, useless heart—lurches.
Pain lets out a warning croak beside me, but I barely register it. The pull is there, simmering just under my skin.
Is he trying to get onto the property? Is he trying torobthem? Did he bring a shovel to—God—kill them and bury their bodies afterward?
Oh, shit.
Ineedto see this. For the sake of everything that is sacred, I need to be here when it happens.
The crows circle the willow tree above. They don’t come closer because Pain is here, but they still cut black shapes into the sky, their caws breaking the quiet one by one.
And Pain… Painlungesat me. Unlike me, it doesn’t give a damn whether there’s some mysterious figure at my ex-husband’s house.Myold house. It only cares about one thing: making sure I do my job. Nothing else.
But I’m not letting it win. Not right now.
I brace myself as it dives, shielding my face just in time. Pain snaps at my forearm instead. If I hadn’t blocked it, the bastard would’ve gone for my eye.
“Knock it off,” I hiss, waving my hand to shoo it away. “This is important. This is different. I need to see this.”
As if it cares. It lashes out again, claws curling into my sleeve. The pain is brutal. Really fucking brutal. Bad enough that I should just surrender and do what it wants.
But I can’t.
Because this man—the one who’s got my attention—jumps the fence.
His black hair, long enough to skim his shoulders, gleams as he moves. Darkness clings to him, stitched into his clothes, woven into the sharp lines of his face.
A tattered cloak drapes over his shoulders, the heavy fabric pooling in deep folds. Beneath it, layers of frayed, barely-held-together fabric wrap around him. The only thing I can make out is something resembling a tunic with a high collar, snug around his throat, leaving no skin exposed.
Silver glints against all that black—chains, pendants, sharp little trinkets dangling from him. A key hangs from his neck, a skeletal hand clings to his sleeve, and… piercings. A lot of them.
Two below his lower lip. One in his eyebrow. Another in his nostril.
Yeah, this guy is definitely not my ex husband's business partner. He doesn’t associate with people like that.
I glance toward the house, checking if anyone inside has noticed the intruder. But Jessica is too busy massaging my ex-husband’s shoulders, and he’s still flipping through papers, letting her exist in his perfect little bubble of peace.
They have no idea.
No idea that a man just vaulted their fence, carrying a shovel like a goddamn executioner. No idea that he’s getting closer and closer to their window.
Because that’s where he’s headed.
Pain screeches, shoving at me again, harder this time, nearly knocking me down. The pull to leave wraps its iron grip around my ribs. The demand to collect a soul is waking up in every inch of my being.
But I refuse. Fuck, it’s hard. But I refuse.
I lock my gaze on the stranger, willing him closer, daring him to give me even the faintest clue as to why the fuck he’s here.
And then he does something I never expected.
He stops at the base of the willow.Mywillow. He plants the shovel into the ground with a heavy thud, he lifts his head, and…looks straight at me.
I mean… in my direction. Because hecan’tsee me. That’s impossible.
