Panic returned in a rush as shock and dread coiled around her. Could she reach for her keys? Could she use them as a weapon? Should she fight? God.
She froze, caught by the churning terror, with no idea of how to save herself.
But he didn’t move. He stood as still as she did, and even more silently. Watching her in the mirror as she watched him.
He was tall, several inches taller than her, and his dark hair was tousled, as if he’d been out in the wind or run his hand through it many times. A rough beard covered his jaw, with a small gap where a scar cut through the top of his lip.
Her gaze traveled over his face until their reflected eyes met. His were a clear ocean blue, bracketed by tiny lines, full of some unreadable emotion… and utterly focused on her.
Ellie jolted. She didn’t know him at all. But somehow, they were connected. Awareness thrummed between them, twisting and curling in the space between their bodies. And she would have sworn he felt it too. His frown grew deeper, his eyes darker. His gaze held her locked in place.
He saw her. And she saw him. She saw his brooding intensity. His look of grim severity—as if he had swallowed all his pain and grief and longing and turned it into flinty defiance—him against the world.
Her hand reached out toward the mirror as if she could touch him there. Insanely, stupidly, somehow without her thought or control. “Who are you?” she whispered.
He shook his head. Just one tiny motion. But then he lifted his hand toward her and took a deliberate step closer. It was enough to release her from her strange captivity, and she spun to face him. To face the danger head on. But her hallway was empty.
He was gone.
Chapter Two
Ellie didanother lap of the house, checking the locks on doors and windows with one hand while holding her phone against her ear with the other. Nissy was sleeping in her plush cat cave in Ellie’s home office, entirely disinterested in helping to secure the house.
Night had fallen and, out here, miles from the nearest village, it wasdark. It was comforting to have her best friend on the other end of the line. “How are you, Vic?” Ellie asked, testing the window bolts in her office. It was the only room in the house that held anything of real value: Nissy, and Ellie’s tech. “We haven’t caught up since I saw you in the hospital,” she continued, not adding that they’d mostly discussed physiotherapy programs and the tepid rice pudding. And that weeks had passed since then. Weeks of rehab and recuperation.
“Yeah, I’m… I’m good,” Vic replied. “Just busy, you know.”
Vicwasbusy. And she’d picked up a lot of work for Ellie while she was recovering, which she was very grateful for. But Ellie was back now. More or less. And Vic had been “busy” for months. “You’re not alone. If you need something, let me know,” Ellie said, moving to the next room.
“I will.” Vic’s tone was firm and friendly enough, but it still lacked the warmth it used to have. And Ellie was starting to wonder how long it would take before they felt like sisters—not by blood, but by choice—once more.
She shivered and pulled her gown closer. It was a velvety soft black fleece embroidered with tiny silver stars, and she loved it. It was a kind of armor. Protection against the darkness. Warmth when she felt alone.
“How long are you planning to work from home?” Victoria asked in her ear.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m not ready to come back to London yet. Hopefully in a week or two.” It was the truth… but not the whole truth.
Ellie trusted Victoria with her life, her business,everything.
They’d met in preschool and quickly become best friends. When Ellie’s mother died of cancer when Ellie was ten, it was Vic’s shoulder she cried on. When her father buried himself in work, distancing himself from the daughter who looked just like his lost wife, Vic became her family.
Neither of them questioned whether they would go to college together, they both simply assumed they would. They studied computer science together and they shared a house, sometimes bickering, sometimes arguing, but always as close as sisters.
They were both driven. Both determined to work hard and play harder—online for Ellie, IRL for Vi—and they brought out the best in each other. Ellie gave Vic the stability and freedom from drama she never seemed to get at home, and Vic was Ellie’s champion; cheering her on and dragging her away from worrying about her to-do list. They’d been best friends for most of their lives, staying close even when Ellie was working eighteen-hour days and Vic was off traveling the world with a backpack.
But things had changed between them and now Ellie didn’t want to admit how difficult getting back onto the road was proving. Telling Vic about her panic attacks felt like adding weight to an already floundering raft. It was easier to stay positive, and hopefully find a way back to the comfortable—and comforting—friendship they used to have.
“You don’t want to come to London?” Vic asked, a hint ofsomethingin her voice. Victoria loved the city. She loved the bright lights, the vibrant clubs and restaurants. All the glamor. But Ellie didn’t miss it—not that she’d seen much of it in the last few years, anyway.
After she’d set up Dangerous Business Games, she’d spent most of her time in London. Getting her business off the ground took every hour of every day and she’d needed to be there. But she wasn’t at parties, she was working.
Eventually she’d found her feet. Vic had joined her, taking some of the weight from her shoulders. She’d recruited great people and developed an amazing team. And she’d bought her dream home near the sea… and then she’d spent even less time enjoying London’s amusements. Property was much cheaper so far out of the city, and she used all the money she saved—and the hours of travel time—to write storylines and develop her code.
After she brought Nissy home, she’d moved to working remotely three days a week and only going up to London on Tuesdays and Thursdays unless she was really needed. Nissy was happier—they both were—surrounded by trees and open skies.
But it was more isolating, too.
Ellie rattled the kitchen door, checking it was firmly locked, and peered through the glass to her vegetable garden. It was a mass of shadows and darkness, impossible to see even if someone had been standing right in the middle.
