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“I don’t want a new one.” A new one won’t feel the same. It won’t fit in my hand like the comfort of pulling on a well-worn pair of gloves.

“Well, you let me know when you’re done being stubborn, and I’ll find you exactly what you need.”

I ignore him because I’m done encouraging these people. Between him and Sasha, I’ll never get a moment’s peace. At least my hurry to be rid of him helps me get moving, and I’ve packed the remaining boxes in record time.

Rooney carries everything to his truck and then walks back over, hand extended.

I stare at it for too long before I realize he’s after my payment list.

“Tell them it’s a freebie this week.”

His whole face fills with surprise. “A freebie?”

“Don’t get used to it.” I just want him gone from my property. He can read me too easily, and the longer he’s around, studying me with those mismatched eyes, the more uncomfortable I feel.

“No problem at all.” He swings up into his truck but pauses before climbing inside. “And Lynx, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

My glare settles in deep, and with a laugh, Rooney pulls his door closed and backs out of his parking space.

I’m alone again, exactly how I like it, but as the engine fades and the silence of my fields sets in, this weight presses in around me. For someone who prides themselves on being in tune with everything, I’ve never noticed how wide and empty these fields are.

I lock up the supplies shed and go in hunt of Bob, craving company in a way I never have before.

“Keep quiet this time,” I tell Bob, approaching the modest cottage. They’re too close to the road and entirely unprotected out here, but at least it keeps Sasha separated from my pack and my pack separated from Sasha.

Hobby Straight is only for the passers-through, after all.

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough that I’m confident I’m the only one out here. No Antonios lurking in the shadows, just me, Bob, and two cabins occupied by possibly the most defenseless people I’ve ever met.

My hand closes over the handle of my kukri, but it still doesn’t feel right. It’s wider and has a different grip, not offering the same comfort as my machete.

The blade is all wrong too. Shorter and bent at an angle that’s useful for work, but doesn’t swing like second nature.

I reach Sasha’s cabin and find the perfect tree to get to work on. Setting my bag down carefully, I pull each of the blue bottles from inside and unwrap the glass as silently as I can. Then I slide the bottles onto the weathered tree branches.

I’ve never thought to put protections up here because Queenie comes and goes too frequently, and no one else is ever here long enough. Not if it’s up to me, anyway.

Sasha has my knife for protection, but now this should keep the nightmares away too. He can’t walk around permanently tired and think he’ll stay one step ahead of his enemies because it doesn’t work like that. You need to be smarter, faster, more in tune with the world around you.

I finish up the tree, then shoulder my backpack again, moving closer to the cabin to salt it. Sasha might not believe in all of this, but I’ll be able to sleep a hell of a lot better knowing it’s done because at the moment, it feels like a giant incomplete task. Something to eat at me when it’s dark and I’m listing my pack in my mind, reminding myself that everyone is safe. I wish Sasha would leave already so I could ditch the feeling of him being my responsibility too.

Bob’s paw crunches over something, and I pause to shoot him a look. If he gets us caught again, he’ll be sleeping outside tonight—where a wild animal should be sleeping. My ears are strained for the sound of movement inside, and it’s not until a few minutes pass with nothing that I relax again.

Sasha can’t know I’m here.

He won’t get another chance to weave more mind tricks on me.

I move around the cabin, salting the windows between pausing at every unexpected noise. Bob keeps quiet, thankfully, and by the time I reach the door, I really do think that I’ll be able to get out of here without having to see that bewitching face.

I’ve just set foot on the porch when a muffled sound comes from inside. Every cell in my body freezes, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger, but when the sound comes again, it’s more of a whine than anything aggressive.

My gaze drops to Bob’s, who’s already watching me for a signal of what to do. Ignore the sound and continue on our mission, or get the hell out of here?

Without this doorway salted, I’m not going to be able to sleep, and I’m here now, so I might as well just get it done.

If Sasha catches me, I just need to bolt before I fall back under his spell.

I duck down to add the salt, when the uncertain whine turns into a thump and makes me straighten again. There’s another thump, what sounds like thrashing, and then—a loud, petrified scream startles the soul from my body.