“Olivier said Ravenhill isn’t what we think. That he?—”
A cracking sound outside snapped all of us still. It wasn’t the wind or an animal. But a boot on ice. Eric stepped in front of me instinctively, shoulders squared, breath sharp. He scanned the back windows like he could cut through the frost with his bare eyes.
Asher held up one hand quiet, sharp, commanding.
“Listen.”
We did.
At first, there was nothing but howling wind.
Then. . .A tap. Not on the door. Not on the window. It was coming from the side of the house. Three slow, deliberate knocks and my blood went cold.
“He’s checking the walls,” Asher murmured. “Mapping the structure. He’s deciding where to come in.”
Eric’s fists tightened. “Over my dead?—”
“ERIC!”
Olivier’s voice burst from the floor, raw and terrified. He tried to sit up and collapsed, shaking violently.
“Harm, don’t let him take you, he’ll take?—”
“Who is he?” Asher snapped, crouching beside him.
Olivier’s gaze darted frantically between the two doors, the windows, the hallway. He looked like a trapped animal. His breath came in harsh, broken pulls.
“He knows where the cameras are,” Olivier rasped. “He knows where you stand. He sees everything…”
Eric stiffened. “What do you mean he sees everything? How?”
But Olivier’s eyes rolled for a second then snapped to me with horrifying clarity.
The lights flickered. The walls groaned under the weight of the wind. And then a silhouette crossed the kitchen window. Tall. Domineering and on a mission. The man moved with the confidence of a person who already knew the blueprint of the house.
I gasped.
Eric pulled me back into his chest with one arm and reached for the nearest weapon, a cast-iron pan on the stove, with the other.
Asher pivoted, fists up, weight ready for impact. “He’s circling toward the front!”
“No,” Eric said. “He’s circling towardHarmony.”
Another tap. On the opposite side of the house now. Olivier sobbed a broken, shaking sound. “Don’t open the door.”
A shadow paused at the kitchen window. Even through the frost, I felt him looking right at me. My breath stopped.
Asher whispered, “Hell. He’s hunting.”
Eric tightened his grip around me. “He isn’t getting inside. I swear it.”
Another tap. This one closer. Almost gentle. Like a promise. Eric stiffened beside me. Asher adjusted his position. Even the air felt tighter, like the walls themselves braced. Then Olivier, who’d been trembling on the rug, gave a sudden, sharp flinch.Not from pain. From a sound. A faintclick.It was so soft I almost questioned if I heard it. But Olivier reacted instantly, eyes widening, breath choking off.
Eric froze. “What was that?”
Olivier’s gaze darted downward. Toward his own chest. His shirt. The folds of the blanket covering him. Terror raw and unmistakable spread across his face.
“Asher,” Eric said cautiously, “give me your phone light.”
