I study the photo again. “Maybe.”
Sage sits in a chair near us, reaching for the camera. After seeing the photo, he shakes his head hard. “Goddamn it.”
“Could it be one?” I ask.
“It has to be. Bronson said they’ve felt someone too, yet none of us have seen tracks. This must be how they’re doing it. By air.”
The room goes silent. Someone really is watching us, then.
Fuck.
I reach for Tobias at the same time he pulls his knees up, hugging them to his chest. I wrap my arm around him, unsure of what to say.
Grant returns a moment later, tablet in hand. He sets it on the table and pulls up a still image from the drone’s last moments.
“See for yourselves,” he says grimly.
The photo shows the same thing Tobias captured—lines across the bird’s head, too deliberate to be coincidence.
His jaw ticks, rage simmering behind his blue eyes. “That bird wasnotjust a bird.”
The only question now is, who is it?
30
TOBIAS
Ican’t sit still.
For two days, I’ve been pacing the house, thinking. Replaying things in my head—the bird, the voices, Red’s conversation about shifting. Rip.
I don’t have answers for any of it, and it makes me want to scream.
I climb out of bed and wrap a blanket around my shoulders. “I’m going downstairs.”
Rowen looks up from his computer. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
His concern deepens. “Toby, you know you can talk to me, right?”
My heart sinks at his hurt tone, like he knows I’m keeping something from him. Of course he knows. He’s probably feeling it too. I’ve felt little pieces of his emotions yesterday and today. Just snippets, becoming stronger each time. But it’s enough to break my heart.
Rowen is so worried about me, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
“I’m fine. Really,” I say, forcing a smile.
I pull the blanket tighter around me as I walk downstairs. The room is warm from the fireplace, the air comforting. I sink into the couch and pull my knees up. My head pounds, just like it has for two days. Weeks, really.
The headaches never seem to stop now, and that tickle at the base of my skull never goes away. I wish it would. I wish either the whispers would say what they need to say and disappear for good, or just leave me the hell alone.
Instead, they’re lingering. Always. The presence isalwaysthere.
Is this how it was for my mom? Why she always seemed so tired? The constant headaches and lack of sleep are certainly catching up with me. To all of us, really. Everyone is on edge, but for different reasons.
Forest is in his usual spot near the hearth, studying the pictures of the ravens on the tablet. Grant has confirmed it’s not just one raven but two circling our property. They both have curious markings. Bronson confirmed they’ve seen them too.
“What if we shoot one of them down?” Sage murmurs.
