Page 100 of Beyond Oblivion

He watched me for a moment, and then his expression softened. “No. That they trust you is enough.”

“It’s not that,” I insisted. “It has nothing to do with trust, it’s just they’re …” I glanced at Hazel.

“I’ll step out,” she said.

Trenton waited for the door to close and then turned to me. “Does it have to do with the fire?”

I closed one eye. “Kind of.”

“My theory is that Tommy knows someone who pulled some strings for Travis, and now he owes them a favor. But now he’s involved in some bad shit. The only thing I can’t figure out is Madison’s role in all of this.”

“You’re actually pretty spot on,” I said, surprised. “And if it makes you feel any better, they don’t know how Madison is involved, either, other than some people who have it out for Thomas are using her to threaten his family.”

“See?” he said, rubbing his face. “Was that so hard? I didn’t need the details.”

“The details are why they can’t tell anyone. They weren’t lying when they told you we’re all in the crosshairs of a very scary group of individuals. He’s already been forced to pull Travis into it. He’s drowning in guilt, and the last thing he wants is to involve you, too.”

“Baby doll… we’re involved.”

“I know, but…”

“The details,” he said, understanding.

I nodded. “The details.” I squeezed his hand. “Just know that it’s not about trust. Taylor and Tyler don’t know either. Neither does your dad, and they trust him more than anyone.”

He let out a shaky breath, nodding. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” He leaned over, pressing his lips to my forehead, his hand brushing my cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m just gonna shut up now so you can focus on baking our little cupcake in your Easy Bake Oven.”

I breathed out a laugh. “Pretty sure this oven is set tomayhem and madness.”

I wanted to believe everything would be fine, but as I looked into his eyes, I knew he was doing his best to put on a brave face. “Promise me you’ll try not to worry,” he murmured, smoothing a hand over my hair.

As he pulled away, his phone chimed with an alert, and he frowned, glancing down at the screen. “It’s the security app. Something tripped the sensors in the backyard. The night vision is picking up something.”

“Can you see anything on the cameras?” I asked, feeling a twinge deep inside my mid-section.

He tapped the screen a few times. “Yeah, but it’s,” he shook his head, frustrated. “It’s gotta be interference or something. It… One sec. I’ll be right back.”

He slipped outside, and Hazel stepped back in, confused about Trenton’s sudden departure. “Everything all right?” she asked.

“Can you grab the remote and switch the input to Z701?” I asked, stretching to relieve the suddenly searing pulse in my womb.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, grabbing the remote. She held it up, pressing buttons until the camera feeds popped up in a six-part grid. She selected the backyard panel, zooming in until we had a full-screen view of Trenton trudging across the grass, his flashlight cutting through the dark.

He scanned the area, then slowly made his way toward the greenbelt lining the far edge of our property—a feature that once made this place feel like a perfect choice, but now cast an unsettling shadow over the yard, even with the floodlights.

Hazel walked over to the large flat screen hanging over our dresser, pointing to a shadow in the bushes. “What’s that?” she asked. Suddenly, her expression shifted to horror. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

One of the floodlights went dark, and then another. On the screen, Trenton turned to look at the extinguished lights, and then crumpled to the ground like a rag doll, his flashlight spinning away into the shadows. A figure emerged behind him, dressed head-to-toe in dark clothing—a black hoodie pulled low and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His clothes seemed to blend into the night, loose enough to disguise any shape, with gloved hands and thick, heavy boots that absorbed each movement as if he were part of the shadows themselves.

Hazel covered her mouth as the figure loomed over Trenton’s unmoving form. “There’s more than one. Look, someone is walking toward the back door. I’m calling 911,” she said, reaching for her phone.

I felt a wave of panic surge, fierce and paralyzing. My chest tightened, my heart pounding so loudly it drowned out my thoughts, and then something deep and relentless bloomed low in my abdomen. The pain was sharp, clawing through me, each throb intensifying with every second that Trenton lay motionless under the shadow of the intruder.

My hands flew to my stomach, and I tried to steady my breathing, but my heart kept hammering, my body caught between fear and agony, helpless as I watched the scene play out.

“Hazel—” I whispered, a tremor of pain cutting through my words.

Before she could react, the door swung open, and Madison stepped inside, shrouded in black. Her brown hair hung in loose waves over her shoulders, a dark duffel gripped in one hand, the gleam of sorority pins on the bag catching the light in a way that seemed almost absurd against her dark attire.

---