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Thrashing against their grip, he tried pulling his foot free, but the shadows held tight, squeezing harder the more he struggled.

This can’t be happening, he thought. This can't be fucking real.

But it was. He knew it was—all of it.

Just like the golden eyes in the water had been real. And how he was certain it was Evie’s voice that had called out to him. Like the things he’d seen, the things he’d been remembering—all of it was real.

Impossibly, terrifyingly real.

Whatever was happening was trying to stop him from reaching the dock. Something did not want him there, which was all the more reason for him to push more than he’d ever pushed in his life.

Straining, he pulled even harder, throwing all his weight behind it until finally the shadows released their grasp on him, slithering back down into the dark water.

Ethan crawled backward, desperate to get away from the water’s edge. Ragged breaths came in rapid succession as his brain tried to rationalize the impossible shit that kept happening.

Despite the impossibility of it all, it didn’t matter. He had to get to her. Had to understand what was happening to him. To Evie. To know why everything he thought about the world had flipped on its head since he’d met her.

Elevated voices came from up ahead, faint but more unmistakable now. Preston’s slurred voice boomed, and he heard the woman’s, too.

The pressure in Ethan’s head spiked again, the edges of his vision darkening. He dropped to his hands and knees, the wet grass cold against his palms.

Desperation bloomed in his chest as he slowly crawled toward them.

He just needed to reach her.

Get up.

Get up.

GET UP.

Ethan pushed himself up, forcing his legs to move, sprinting toward the dock. He saw them even more clearly now.

The woman was on top of Preston, pinning him to the wooden planks. At first, he thought he might have been interrupting an intimate moment between them, but with the screams coming from Preston, he knew something was wrong.

Preston writhed on his back, straining against the woman who was nowhere near the size or strength of him.

Pure terror radiated in his voice as he screamed, “Who—who the fuck are you, you psychotic bitch?” Preston’s cries ripped through the air, sharp and panicked as Ethan approached them.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Her fucking hands.

Claws, black and sharp, pulsing with shadows.

His gaze traveled down to her arms, and his eyes widened.

Scales.

Black iridescent scales gleamed in the moonlight.

Ethan’s stomach dropped. He’d seen this before.

All the nightmares he’d been having. The thing in the water, the golden eyes, the black scales.

The world spun, and his vision blurred.

That thing he’d seen in his nightmare that had come to life on the Ferris wheel.