Blue-handled. Small. Sharp. Speckled with something dark.
Blood.
My body locked in place as panic slammed into me like a tidal wave. Andrew. Carl. The same weapon. The same damn weapon. And it was in my trash can.
I stumbled back, nearly tripping over the threshold, scrambling for my phone in my coat pocket, fingers slick with sweat and shaking with adrenaline.
And that’s when I felt it.
A shift in the air behind me.
The soft scuff of a boot.
A presence.
Before I could turn, before I could scream, a towel wrapped around my nose and mouth—tight, suffocating, saturated with something sweet and chemical.
I fought. Kicked. Clawed.
But the world began to tilt.
Darkness crept in.
And everything turned black.
40
PHOENIX
Asharp crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes, and I glanced at the clock on Rose’s wall—12:15 p.m.—then down at my phone for the hundredth time since she’d left that morning, leaving me behind to finish her security upgrades. She’d smiled when she kissed me goodbye. Carefree. Safe.
Another flash of lightning turned the room stark white for a second. The storm was almost here.
I stepped out onto the deck, trying to breathe through the growing weight in my chest. The air was thick—oppressive—with that strange, buzzing tension that always came before something broke. A storm, a fight, a war.
It was dead quiet. Not a single chirp or rustle in the trees. Even the birds had fled. The wind had stilled, but the clouds above churned in slow, heavy spirals, like they were holding their breath.
So was I.
“You alright?” Gage’s voice came from inside, where he sat cross-legged in a mess of wires, mounting the last of the security cameras.
“Yeah,” I lied, stepping back in and closing the door. I didn’t look at him.
“You’re like a damn teenager waiting on his prom date,” he teased. “Give the girl a break.”
I tried to force a smirk, but my stomach kept twisting. Something was wrong. I couldn’t explain it—just a cold instinct crawling up the back of my neck. The kind you didn’t ignore if you wanted to stay alive.
Gage narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
I hesitated. “I haven’t heard from Rose in a few hours.”
He raised a brow. “Were you supposed to?”
“No,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Forget it.”
But I couldn’t. Not with the way she’d smiled. Not with the way the storm was closing in, devouring the sky and the light. Something wasn’t right. I felt it in my goddamn bones.
Another rumble of thunder. Then, rain—fat, angry drops slapping the windows like fists.
