“I already did?—”
“Check again.”
I move automatically, my body responding before my brain catches up. I hurry to the nearest door, twisting the lock, then the next.
“I’m coming,” he adds.
The line goes dead. I stare at the phone for half a second?—
Then shove it back into my pocket. The sound at the back door grows louder. More insistent. The handle jerks. Once. Twice. Harder now. My breath comes faster.
“Go away,” I whisper, even though I know they can’t hear me.
Or maybe they can. Because the noise stops. Just?—
Stops. Silence crashes down around me. Worse than the sound. So much worse. Because now I don’t know what they’re doing. Or where they are. I take a shaky step back. Another. Every instinct screaming at me to run, to hide, to?—
A shadow moves past the narrow window in the back hallway. My heart slams against my ribs. They’re still there. Still trying. Still?—
Waiting. For a split second, I consider making a run for the front door. But what if they circle around? What if they’re faster? What if?—
No. Stay inside. Stay locked in. Wait for Archer. The thought comes unbidden. Automatic. And that terrifies me almost as much as the person outside. Because it means, despite everything?—
Despite the argument?—
Despite the anger?—
I trust him. The handle jerks again. Harder this time. More aggressive. The door rattles in its frame.
“They’re not getting in,” I whisper, gripping the edge of a shelf. “They’re not getting in.”
But the confidence feels thin. Fragile. Like it could shatter at any second. And then?—
The sound stops again. Silence. Total and absolute. I hold my breath, straining to hear anything. Footsteps. Movement. Anything. Nothing. My pulse pounds in my ears. Seconds stretch. Then minutes. Or maybe it just feels like minutes. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m standing in the middle of my bookstore?—
My safe place?—
And it suddenly doesn’t feel safe at all. And I have no idea if the person outside is gone?—
Or just waiting for the right moment to try again.
14
ARCHER
The moment I hear her voice on the phone, everything else drops away. Focus narrows.
Sharp. Immediate. Absolute. There’s someone at her door. And I’m not there. That’s the only thing that matters. I’m moving before she even finishes speaking, keys already in my hand, engine roaring to life hard enough to rattle the frame of the garage.
“Damn it,” I mutter, gripping the wheel too tight.
I should have stayed closer. Should have ignored my own plan and?—
No. Doesn’t matter now. I slam the truck into gear and take the road faster than I should, faster than any human would dare. The world blurs past in streaks of dark and light, my senses stretching outward, searching.
I break every speed limit getting there. And then I stop obeying the road entirely. The scent hits me like a punch. Rogue. Inside my territory. At her door.
Rage explodes through me. I don’t bother with subtlety. I hit the back alley at a run—and there he is. Picking the lock. He turns just as I slam into him. We crash into the wall, the impactcracking brick. He recovers fast—too fast for a human. Because he’s not one.
