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Malakai notices. So do I.
Ezra’s voice drops to a whisper. “Move.”
We do.
Fast, but no one runs. There are too many things in this field that might take that as an invitation.
We make our way toward the Ward house while the dead Brides remain on their knees behind us, silent and unmoving… watching.
Sage glances over her shoulder more than once, but she never slows. Mariah and Ali stay close while Ezra leads us through the field and Malakai keeps a firm hold on Sage.
I fall into place behind them. Exactly where I belong. Because no matter what else changes, some instincts are carved too deep to lose.
The Reaper follows.
Always.
We reach the trees and the house appears ahead.
Sage looks up. “You live there?”
Ezra doesn’t turn. “Yes.”
“It looks haunted.”
“It isn’t.”
“It absolutely is.” I say.
Ezra turns. “Why?”
“She deserves accurate information.”
Sage points at me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“There are no ghosts.” Ezra says.
“Depends on how you define ghosts.”
“Rhett.” he warns.
“Fine.”
Sage looks at Malakai. “Is it haunted?”
“Yes.”
Ezra swears and I grin beneath my mask.
We reach the porch and Ezra unlocks the door.
Sage hesitates at the door.
I can’t exactly blame her.
Three immortal men. An old house in the middle of nowhere. A farm currently trying to murder everyone. Not exactly an ideal Airbnb listing.
