McKayla stared at the picture so hard it looked painful.
I moved closer.“Hey.”
Her eyes flicked to me briefly.
“She looks okay,” she said quietly.“She looks unconscious.”
“Sleeping,” I corrected firmly.
McKayla swallowed hard.“We don’t know that,” she whispered.
“No,” I admitted.“But we also don’t know she’s hurt.”
Anchor stepped away from the bar and ran both hands through his hair roughly.“This motherfucker got right up to the clubhouse.”
The killer had been close before.
Bernice and Bob.Knocking on Shay’s bedroom window.Now this.
The clubhouse was supposed to be secure, and somehow somebody had walked right up to the damn front door during the night and left a message.
For us.
For McKayla.
Prime pointed toward the table where Cross sat with a laptop.“Cross is checking cameras now.”
“Anything yet?”Anchor barked.
Cross shook his head.“Nothing.”
“That’s impossible.”
It was impossible, but it still happened.The damn poster was sitting right in front of us.
Silence settled heavily over the room again.
McKayla set the poster down slowly.“He’s watching the clubhouse.”
Anchor looked ready to tear the entire island apart board by board.
“Double security,” he ordered immediately.“Nobody alone.Nobody goes anywhere without someone with them.”
“We should shut the haunted house down again,” Pull said.
“No,” Anchor snapped instantly.“We shut down every time this asshole moves, he wins.”
“He’s already in our fucking backyard,” Vin muttered.
“And now we know it,” Anchor shot back.“Which means we stop reacting and start hunting.”
That changed the energy in the room immediately.
Not fear anymore or anger.
McKayla wrapped her arms around herself tightly while staring at Erin’s picture again.
I stepped closer to her automatically.“You okay?”
