Page 29 of When Death Whispers

I tie the strings a little too tight and try to focus on work. But that uneasy feeling won’t leave me—the one that says something is off, something’s here. I catch movement from the corner of my eye. A shape too tall, too slow, too deliberate. But when I look? Gone.

“Parker,” Hudson says again, his voice closer now. I jump, spinning to face him, only to find Donovan watching me too, his brow furrowed.

“You sure you’re good, kid?” Donovan interjects, concern laced in his gravelly voice.

“I’m fine,” I say again, but it comes out weaker this time. I blow out a breath and paste on what I hope is a convincing smile. “Really. I’m fine.”

Hudson doesn’t look convinced, but he seems on edge too. And if even Donovan is noticing me acting weirder than normal, then I must be doing a poor job of hiding it.

Jenna arrives a few minutes later, cheerful and chipper as ever, her brown ponytail bouncing as she bursts through the front door likesheowns the damn place, not Donovan.

She must be covering for Betty again, who usually has the night shift with us. Fuck.

It’s not that I dislike Jenna really, but she’s ridiculously chatty. And I am… not.

“Welldamn,” she says with a smirk, eyes locking onto Hudson as soon as she spots him. “That pink really brings out your eyes.”

Hudson doesn’t even glance up from the tray he’s loading. “Yeah.”

She laughs like he’s said something charming instead of dismissive. “Seriously. You totally pull it off.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously likekill me nowand steps away, putting the counter between them without looking back. If Jenna notices the snub, she doesn’t let it show.

She turns to me, a fake smile locked and loaded. “Didn’t realize you were sharing your closet. That’s… cute.”

I arch a brow but say nothing, letting the silence do the talking. Her smile falters just enough to satisfy me before she flounces into the back, humming off-key like she didn’t just try to stake a claim on someone who isn’t hers. It’s interesting that she pays enough attention to notice he’s wearing my clothes.

Her presence is… odd. It’s annoyingly normal, but it still scrapes at my nerves like sandpaper. Some people get to exist in this world without looking over their shoulder. People like Jenna. She flirts, she hums, she takes up space like nothing can touch her.

Meanwhile, I’m still checking the corners of every room for shadows.

And the tension keeps building.

The shift is slow after Donovan leaves. The bakery shop closes for the night, the noise of the hustle and bustle from the front dying off and leaving the constant hum of ovens and mixers in its stead.

I move through the motions—mixing, measuring, baking—but every so often, Ifeelit. A shift in the air. A dark smear in the corner of my vision. A brush of something that doesn’t belong. A flicker of movement where there shouldn’t be any in the brightly lit kitchen. But it doesn’t feel like my monster. It’s not the usual dread of impending death.

But my heart leaps to my throat every time, thinking this is it, this is when the rules change and he steps out from the shadows and I die. But when I look, there’s nothing…

I’m not the only one who notices. Hudson keeps glancing at me, his frown deepening with each passing hour.

“Parker,” he says when I pass him another tray of cupcakes. “Are you sure?—”

“I. Am. Fine,” I cut him off, more sharply than I mean to. His eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t push further. Still, I see the worry in his intense blue eyes, and it’s almost worse than if he’d argued.

Guilt hits me instantly, Hudson doesn’t deserve any harsh treatment, especially since he now knows my motivations for keeping people at bay, but I’m too on edge right now to explain myself. And it’s really not the time or place.

By the time we hit our break around midnight, I’m ready to scream. I escape to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and avoiding the mirror like I usually do. The fluorescent light buzzes faintly overhead, steady and unchanging, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is watching me.

It’s not my monster. I know that much. The dread he brings is suffocating, like drowning in darkness. This is different. Lighter, almost curious. It’s the same presence I could feel back at my house. But that doesn’t make it any less unsettling. At least my monster usually comes with a warning. This, whatever it is, feels like an unknown. Unknowns get a person killed in my world.

When I return, Hudson is still near the counter, arms crossed, the pink fabric of my shirt stretching across his chest. He looks tired, the white streaks in his hair catching the light, but he’s alert. Watching me. Jenna’s in the back on her break, thankfully out of sight.

“We need to talk,” Hudson eventually says.

“About what?” I ask. Shit. Ireallydon’t feel like talking. Especially not with both of us severely lacking sleep and our nerves shot.

He gives me a look, his gorgeous blue eyes seeing everything I’m not saying. “You’ve been off all night. Something’s wrong.”

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