There.
Half-buried, vibrating like it’s trying to claw its way out.
BANKS flashes across the screen.
A punch to the gut.
My mouth goes dry. Ethan’s presence looms behind me even though he stays in the kitchen, giving me space, but I feel him like a shadow.
I swipe to answer.
“Banks?” My voice cracks. I hate that. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t waste a second.
“Lu—listen. Michael Steifer got early release.”
The world just—stops.
Like someone ripped the sound out of it. Like the air folds in on itself.
“What?” It comes out as a whisper, thin and breaking. “No. No, that’s—that’s not possible. They said—he wasn’t due—”
“I know.” Banks’ voice is steady, calm, the way people get when they’re delivering bad news to someone already bleeding. “System pushed him through faster. Overcrowding, good behavior, whatever excuse they glued together. I got the alert earlier.”
My legs go cold from the inside out.
The kitchen tilts. The lake view blurs.
I grip the edge of the table just to stay upright.
Banks keeps talking, each word another slice to the ribs.
“Don’t panic. Just lie low for a few days. Stick to the house. Keep people around you. I’m making calls.”
Don’t panic.
Right. Because that’s ever worked for me.
“Banks…” My voice shakes. “He knows where I am.”
“Not confirmed,” Banks lies for my benefit. I can hear it. “He hasn’t made any moves. No social media pings. No sightings of you.”
“He doesn’t need sightings,” I snap, breath hitching. “He waits. He watches. You know how he works.”
Images slam into me.
Flashes of doors left ajar.
Messages carved into silence.
The feeling of being watched even when no one was there.
And then the worst one—
the one that lives under my skin like a live wire—
Waking up with him in my bed.
