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Hudson reaches the crash first, shouting something I can hear over the angry rumble of thunder or the creaking trees as the wind cuts through them. My heart jackhammers against my ribcage.

We shouldn’t be out right now. Not with the storm so violent and the lightning right overhead. I wipe my face and hold up my forearm to keep the raindrops out of my eyes, but it’s a losing battle. I squint at the damage.

The delivery driver T-boned a small car. Hudson rushes to that one while I head to check on the delivery driver, nearly slipping in some mud on the side of the driveway. Shit, this storm is one for the books.

Adrenaline pours through my veins as I open the door. The driver isn’t awake. In the dim interior lighting, I spot a trickle of blood running down his face. The airbags didn’t deploy, but they should have.

Shit. He must’ve hit his head on something. Hopefully it’s only a concussion and nothing serious.

“Hey.” I lightly tap his face, and he mumbles something but doesn’t open his eyes. That can’t be good. The ambulance Cole’s calling can’t come soon enough.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

HUDSON

The horn’s blaring cuts through the rain like a scream. The sandals I threw on in my haste to get out here slip on the wet asphalt as I round the twisted metal of what used to be two vehicles. The smell hits me first—gasoline, hot metal, a chemical burning. My stomach clenches.

That’s not good.

Grimacing, I prepare myself for what I’ll find. Blood on the steering wheel. Gashes that need stitches. Or worse. I can’t see much of anything in the dark and rain. The headlights are eerie in the pouring rain. My hands shake as I walk around the hood of the smaller vehicle, and I hate myself for it. I’ve seen plenty of accidents working construction, but I’ve never quite gotten used to seeing someone hurt.

I stop short when I get close enough to see the door hanging open.

My heart stutters. The driver’s seat sits vacant, seatbelt dangling. There’s only an empty space where someone should be.

“What the hell?” I lean inside, reaching across the seat to kill that godforsaken horn. The silence that follows feels heavier than the noise. More wrong somehow. My eyes scan the interior—the keys are dangling from the ignition. A phone lies face-down on the floorboard.

Nobody in their right mind walks away from a crash like this. Not in this weather. Not with the front end of the other car smashed into the passenger side. I back out of the car, wiping rain from my eyes which is pointless given that it comes right back in a matter of seconds.

Maybe they’re hurt, wandering around in shock. Our place is surrounded by trees. It can be confusing for someone not used to the landscape. Maybe they tried to make it to the house and collapsed somewhere in the darkness. People do crazy shit when adrenaline takes over or when they’re hurt.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice barely carrying over the storm. “Anyone out here?”

Nothing.

“Ahhh!” Gage’s shout barely cuts through the rain.

What the fuck? That sounded like he got hurt. I whirl around, squinting through the downpour, but I can’t see anything. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Something’s off. Something’s really fucking off about this whole situation. My gut churns with that familiar dread I’ve learned to trust—the same sensation I got right before that scaffolding collapsed on a job site a few years ago.

I turn toward the house, squinting through the rain. Maybe they made it up there. Maybe⁠—

The world explodes into stars and darkness.

Pain radiates from the back of my skull like the flash lightning slashing across the sky, and my knees buckle. I pitch forward, hands scrambling for purchase on anything solid to keep me from falling face first, but there’s not much to hold on to. The wet asphalt rushes up to meet me. I twist on instinct, taking the brunt of the fall on my shoulder and rolling onto my back.

Somewhere in the chaos of my spinning vision, I catch a glimpse of movement.

A shadow.

Someone moves to stand over me.

My mouth tries to form words, but only a groan escapes. Agony shreds through my mind. Fuck my head. The drops of rain are like needles against my skin, each splat a tiny explosion of sensation that my scrambled brain can’t process. Warmth trickles down the back of my skull, probably mixing with the cold rainwater.

The person watches me, dark hood pulled up, the shadows shrouding their face menacing and terrifying.

Get up. The thought fights through the fog clouding my mind. Get up, you stupid bastard.

But my body won’t cooperate. My limbs feel like they’re filled with concrete, heavy and useless. The darkness creeps in from the edges of my vision like spilled ink, and consciousness is slowly slipping away despite every instinct screaming at me to stay awake.