Page 38 of When Death Whispers

Hudson flops onto the couch and stretches out with a groan, tossing one arm over his eyes.

“You sleep?” he asks.

I try to keep my face neutral. I’m not sure I succeed, though. “Uh, sort of.”

“Nightmares?”

Nope, my face was definitely not neutral. The guy sees everything I swear. I hesitate. “Something like that.”

He doesn’t ask for more, and I don’t offer it.

The afternoon light spills through the windows, warm and golden, catching in the dust motes dancing lazily in the air. The TV still hums softly from where I left it on, some rerun playing in the background. It’s almost normal.

Almost.

Hudson shifts, tugging the throw blanket off the back of the couch and over his torso like he’s been doing it for years. “I already called Jenna and Betty to cover our shift tonight. Figured we could both use the time off. Jenna was absolutely thrilled.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, and I chuckle, but then he sinks deeper into the couch cushion, letting out a sigh that I feel bone-deep.

I’m glad he switched our shifts. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as tired as I do today. Mentally and physically.

And by the way the dark circles seem to deepen the longer he’s awake, I’d say Hudson feels the same.

“I just need a nap. Then I’ll be less useless.”

“You’re not useless,” I say before I can stop myself.

He lifts the edge of the blanket just enough to peer at me. “You sure about that?”

I nod.

He smiles—reallysmiles—and it settles something jagged in my chest. Then he tucks the blanket higher and closes his eyes.

I stay curled on the couch a little longer, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest. Listening to his breathing. The TV continues to hum in the background. Outside, birds chirp like it’s just another normal afternoon.

And for once, I let myself breathe. Not because the danger’s passed.

But because—for the moment—I’m not facing it alone.

16

I’m surrounded by darkness.

Not just the kind you get with your eyes closed. This is heavy—dense. No matter where I look or which way I turn, all I see is an endless void of black. I blink and rub my eyes to clear them, but all that remains is… nothing.

Then shapes begin to emerge—thin, skeletal trees rising like bones from the ground. A forest, maybe. Or what’s left of one. The branches are jagged and bare, swaying in a wind I can’t feel.

The air tastes like ash.

I blink hard, trying to focus, but it’s like the shadows shift when I’m not looking. Nothing here feels real. Or maybe it feelstooreal.

And of course, my first thought?

I bet Parker’s monster can see just fine in this kind of dark.

The thought pisses me off more than it should.

A low, frustrated sound leaves my throat. The fog muffles it instantly, like even my anger doesn’t belong here.

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