Unsure what to expect when I got home from the bookstore that night, I knew one thing was likely—I wouldn’t be alone.
Sure enough, the moment I shut the door behind me, the air prickled with electricity. I hated how familiar that charge had become, the way it hummed through the room and set my skin alive. Goosebumps rose along my arms and a low, unwanted thrill skittered through me.
“You’re not welcome here,” I said into the charged dark, listening for a laugh or the scrape of a footstep, certain Malachi was somewhere in the hush.
Silence answered—not empty, just full of something waiting.
I dropped my bag and headed for the bathroom, craving hot water like a promise that this was a bad dream and not my life. Maybe the steam would wash away the sense that I was being hunted. Or maybe n
