I don’t move at first.
I just sit there frozen in the dark, every sense stretched too far, locked onto the woods outside my window.
The house is quiet.
Too quiet.
Even the air feels like it’s holding its breath, like something unseen has pressed pause on everything except me. My pulse beats slow and heavy in my ears, each thud grounding me just enough to keep from spiraling—but not enough to make this feel normal.
Because it’s not.
It’s still out there.
I can feel it.
Not the way I felt Evelyn—sharp, territorial, familiar in a way that made sense even when it shouldn’t have.
Not the way I feel Rowan or Ryder—steady, controlled, something that pulls instead of pushes.
This is different.
Colder.
Sharper.
Wrong.
Kozmo’s low growl vibrates through the room again, deeper this time
