Page 131 of Haunted Prey

I slipped out of the room and went downstairs, letting everyone know I was going to sleep. I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth before climbing into bed.

Not more than five minutes after texting Emery, I heard the window in one of the empty rooms slide open then watched my door open as he snuck in. He shut the door behind him, locking it, and took off his wet clothes and shoes, before crawling into bed with me, making the futon creak under us with his weight. I snuggled close to him, taking in his warmth.

“Did you get the medicine from her?” I asked after a moment.

“Yes,” he said. “Andrea said to be mindful of the dosage, and that we should still see someone with more expertise.”

“Isn’t she a psychiatrist?”

“Apparently that was only her minor.”

I snorted. “Whatever.”

“It’ll be enough for both of us for a couple months.”

“I hope it works.”

“Me too.” He took my hand and rubbed his thumb over my palm. “But if not, we’ll get it figured out.”

“I think I’ve got everything sorted out.”

“You think so? Said your goodbyes?”

“Sort of. I asked Jamie to watch Sammy. And that I was gonna go see friends from my mom’s side in California and stay there for a little while.”

“He bought that?”

“Not sure but he didn’t say anything.”

Emery grunted. “And Lena?”

“She knows. She just made me promise to stay in touch and return someday.”

“Someday,” he repeated softly.

“You got the route, right?”

“Yes.”

I rested my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes. “I’m ready to follow you anywhere.”

He kissed my forehead. “I know.”

“Take me to your dream, Emery, and let me stay there.”

EPILOGUE

1 YEAR LATER, NOVEMBER 1ST

Dia de los Muertos

The day was slipping into evening. I checked my watch, restless to leave. Most of the café had emptied, and the remaining staff moved quietly, cleaning up and preparing to close while handling a few last-minute orders.

Across the street, buildings were adorned with orange and red marigolds, colorful skulls nestled between the blooms. People wandered the streets, some wearing skull masks or painted faces. Children danced and ran around their parents, their laughter blending with the faint music drifting from somewhere outside.

I took a sip of coffee, my eyes falling back to the computer screen. On it was a listing for my old house on a realtor’s site. It looked different now. The siding had been repainted, the roof patched and repaired. The windows, once boarded up, now gleamed with fresh glass. It looked clean, almost inviting—like a house that had only known happy families and warm memories. As if its haunted past had been scrubbed away, leaving nothing but a perfect façade.

My eyes fell to the words below the image.

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