My knees feel weak.
My chest feels too tight.
And my thoughts are too loud, crashing into each other without any sense of order.
“He’s gone now. Take a deep breath,” Ethan says.
I nod. I think I nod. I’m not entirely sure, because everything feels distant, like I’ve stepped half a second outside my own body and I’m watching this play out from somewhere just beyond it.
“He won’t come back.”
Another nod, automatic, empty, and still nothing in my chest loosens.
“Hey.”
His voice shifts, lower now, closer, pulling at my attention.
I blink, forcing myself to focus, and realize he’s moved in front of me again, blocking out the trees, the darkness, the place where everything just happened.
“Look at me,” he says.
I try. I really do, but my vision blurs for a second, my breath catching halfway in my lungs like it forgot how to move.
“Maddie.”
This time his hand comes up, firm and steady, his fingers brushing along my jaw, grounding me, forcing my focus back to him.
“There you go,” he murmurs when my eyes finally lock onto his. “Stay with me.”
I swallow hard and nod again, but it’s shaky.
Everything is shaky.
“I saw him before,” I say, the words tumbling out uneven. “I knew it was him, Ethan. The second I saw his face, I knew.”
My voice cracks, and I drag in a breath that still doesn’t feel like enough.
“Who?”
“It’s him,” I push on, my pulse racing now that the truth is finally out in the open. “My landlord. The one who rented me the cabin.”
Ethan goes completely still.
“People talk about that guy, but no one really knows anything. He keeps to himself, doesn’t come into town unless he has to, and when he does, he watches people like he’s studying them.”
My stomach twists.
“I thought he was just…off,” I admit, my voice dropping. “The kind of guy you avoid, but not someone you think is dangerous. He gave me the lease, barely spoke, just handed me the keys like he already knew I’d say yes.”
Ethan’s hand tightens slightly at my jaw, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep me with him.
“He knew where I’d be from day one,” I whisper.
Silence stretches for half a second, heavy and sharp.
“No,” Ethan says.
“I should’ve?—”
