The house is too quiet. No shower running. No stupid, pod coffee machine humming. No giant dog sighing in the hallway because breakfast is late.
“Jason?” I whisper.
Nothing.
I put the phone down with shaking fingers and step out into the hall, ears straining for any hint of him. There’s no warm fur-smell by his bowls. No faint snore from his bed. No sense of a massive, comforting presence filling the space.
My house feels… wrong. Empty.
Panic licks up my throat.
Did Human-Jason take him? Did he steal Dog-Jason and bolt? Was any of this real, or did I just let some stranger move into my house and?—
The doorbell explodes into frantic, rapid-fire ringing.
I flinch so hard, my shoulder clips the wall.
It doesn’t stop.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each frantic chime sharper than the last, like whoever’s out there is determined to wear a groove into my nerves.
Every self-preservation instinct screams to get a knife to defend myself with, call the cops, crawl under the bed and stay there forever. But the bell just keeps going.
“Okay, okay!” I rasp, my voice high and thin. “I’m coming!”
I walk down the stairs, following the memory of my own layout—hallway, console table, the slight dip in the rug seam. I find the front door by the place where the draft brushes my ankles.
My hands shake so hard the deadbolt feels like a puzzle box. I manage to unlock it and yank the door open.
“Violet,” he gasps. “Thank God.”
I recognize the voice immediately. “You!” I snap.
Beau, who I was just talking about, who dropped off Dog-Jason weeks ago. He’s breathing like he sprinted here, chest heaving. His scent hits me first: cold air, damp earth, sweat, and something sharp and metallic underneath.
It smells distinctly like fear.
I stumble back, anger slamming into the panic.
“What did you do?” My voice comes out a little wild. “Where is my dog? And why did the real program just tell me they don’t even have a Jason? What, are you running some kind of scam? Did Human-Jason steal my dog? Or were you all just?—”
“I didn’t know!” he blurts, voice cracking. “I swear, I didn’t know Froggy was gonna—” He chokes on the name. “Please, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m tryin’ to get you out.”
“Out of what?” My hands curl into fists. “And which Jason are we talking about, exactly? Human-Jason? Dog-Jason? Because right now, I don’t know if there even is a program or if?—”
“Jason is Jason!” he almost wails.
That… does not help.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I snap. “What does that even?—”
He takes a shuddering breath, words tumbling out in a rush.
