Page 13 of Burned By My Mate

It’s peaceful, but it also makes me feelexposed.

I push down the unease bubbling in my chest and turn away from the door. I havework to do.

Or I would if my laptop wasn’tcurrently ash.

I sigh, rubbing my temples. Everything I had—my art supplies, my inventory, my commissions—went up in flames. My savings are gone, tied up in a house that no longer exists, and I don’t have a backup plan.

Ishouldbe panicking, but I can’t afford to fall apart. I need to be smart about this.

I move toward the counter, ready to start listing out my next steps, when I hear it.

Ascratching noisecoming from the front door.

I freeze, my heartstutteringin my chest.

For a second, I think I imagined it. But then?—

Scrape.

A long, slow drag against the wood.

I set my coffee down carefully, my breath catching as the scratching turns into alow thump.

Someone’s out there.

I reach for my phone with shaky fingers, my pulse hammering. Just as I’m about to dial Logan, aloud bangrattles the door.

I suck in a sharp breath, heartslammingin my chest.

Then, silence.

I stand there for a long moment, frozen, before forcing myself to move.

Slowly, I inch toward the window beside the door and peek through the blinds.

Nothing.

But my skin is crawling,every nerve on edge.

I don’t know what’s worse—the idea that someone wasjust there, or the fact that they’re gone now, disappearingwithout a trace.

I swallow hard and press the call button.

Logan picks up on the first ring.

“Emerson?” His voice is sharp, immediately alert.

“There was… someone outside.” My voice comes outsmallerthan I’d like, and I hate it.

Silence for a beat. Then?—

“I’m on my way.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at my phone, my pulse stillracing, and suddenly, for the first time since I got here…

I don’thatethe idea of Logan watching out for me.

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