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His voice is quiet.

"You almost got hurt."

"I didn't."

"You could have."

There it is. The fear. The thing beneath all the control. Not dominance. Not arrogance. Fear. For me. For Sayer. For the family he never got to know.

"I talked to Everly."

His attention shifts.

"What did she say?"

"That this thing isn't random."

I hand him the notes.

"That it wants recognition."

He reads. The longer he does, the more serious his expression becomes.

"She's right."

"You believe her?"

"I've always believed there are things in this world we don't understand."

I smile faintly.

"That's surprisingly open-minded."

"I've seen too much not to."

A comfortable silence settles. Briefly. Then the house lights flicker. Both of us look toward the windows. Not now. Not again. But the lights stabilize. No distortion. No attack.

Just a warning. A reminder.

Sayer is in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

"Did something happen?"

"No," I say quickly.

He looks at Rhett. Then me. He doesn't believe either of us.

"You need sleep," Rhett says.

Sayer yawns.

"I know."

He heads toward the guest room. Then stops.

"Carys?"

"Yeah?"