Forest hums. “Jericho has been trying already.”
Shoot one of them down? Gods. I don’t want to think about that.
Turning, I drape an arm across the back of the couch and look out the window a few feet away. It’s so gray and dreary today, light flurries drifting down and making everything wet. I miss the thick snow of December, when everything had been so pristine and pretty. Now it’s just… messy and cold.
When the whispers start, I almost don’t even notice. I’m so accustomed now to the frayed edges in my mind. They’re so faint, so far away that I can almost ignore them, like a low-static hum in the back of my skull, or a fan in another room.
Please don’t let me freak out.
Pulling the blanket tighter, I close my eyes and try to block out the sound. But the noise steadily increases, becoming indistinguishable words too jumbled to make sense of.
Red said the whispers were just shifter instincts—some ancient part of my animal trying to guide me. But this? This isn’t instinct. Instinct doesn’tsound like… words. It doesn’t tug at you like someone’s threading a hook through your mind. Instinct warns. This feels like something trying to break in.
It’s like someone speaking through an ancient microphone, every other syllable jagged or missing.
The tug at my skull intensifies. I wince and clap a hand over the back of my neck. This isn’t normal.
Suddenly, like a radio frequency finally finding the right wavelength, the static fades and the voice—hisvoice—becomes crystal clear. I nearly scream.
Tobiasss.
I snap my eyes open, expecting to see the dark-skinned man sitting right in front of me. But nothing has changed. Forest is still reading in the chair talking to Sage. Jasmine is in the kitchen. Taren is feeding Aster in the high chair.
Everything is normal.
And yet, it’s not.
There’s another presence here—and it’s somehow larger than all the others combined.
My heart pounds frantically.
I twist the bracelet on my wrist, panic rising—but it isn’t warm. What’s happening?
Come out, come out, wherever you are…
A shiver races down my spine as I look around. Again, it sounds like Rip isright here—in this room!
Are you hiding in your little den?Rip teases.Playing house with your new… friends?
Blood drains from my face. Does he know? Fuck, does Rip know where I am?
No. That’s impossible. We haven’t seen anyone from the coven. So this is just my mind playing cruel tricks on me, right? The half-blood making me imagine things that aren’t here?
“He’s not here,” I whisper.
His laugh is almost resentful.Come on, pet. Did you really think I’d never find you?
The air rushes out of me. I look out the window, hands shaking. This isn’t real. He’s not here. How can Rip know where I am?
Getting up, I walk to the large window by the front door. My knees shake, and I pull the blanket tight. I make a mental list of my surroundings: the snow patches have melted into small puddles across the driveway, eight cars line themselves along the side, and someone has locked the storage unit securely.
Everything seems normal.
“I’m fine,” I mutter. “Totally, perfectly fine.”
Rip’s mood seems to shift. I can almost feel him sneering, lips curled back.Do you have any idea how stupid I felt when I saw you playing with your… dog? How impossible it was that you were right under my nose this whole time?His voice is thick with anger. Dangerous.All those times I came to check on Jericho for Foxx, and here you are… hiding amongst them.
My heart plummets, and I shake my head. The blanket slips from my shoulders as I shake. No. No, it can’t be. This isn’t real. He’s not here. When would he have seen me?
