Page 103 of When Death Whispers

No.

No, no,no.

I don’t even remember moving. But suddenly, I’m standing in the kitchen doorway—Hudson at my side, both of us frozen. And I see it.

The blood first.

It coats the white tile in thick, dark rivers. It’severywhere. The metallic scent hits me like a punch to the gut.

My stomach lurches.

Then I see Donovan.

He’s lying on his back, sprawled like a rag doll. Eyes wide. Unblinking. Mouth still open in a silent scream that never came.

His chest is torn open. Not messy. Not wild.

Precise.

Too precise.

The only small mercy. He probably didn’t feel it.

I stumble back, hitting the counter behind me.

This is my fault.The thought slams into me like a freight train. My monster did this. It had to be him. It’s always him.

My hands shake violently. My vision tunnels. I taste panic on the back of my tongue.

Fuck. I can’t fall apart. Not now. Not with?—

“Silver,” Hudson breathes. “What the hell did this?”

He moves, putting himself between me and the danger, his body solid and unyielding. Protective. Human. Unaware of how far over his head this really is.

Jenna is crumpled in the corner, sobbing and shaking. Blood coats her hands—she must’ve touched him. Tried to help.

You can’t help the dead.

The thought makes something cold slither down my spine.

I try to speak, but I can’t. Because suddenly, I feel it.

The bakery is too quiet. Not shock-quiet. Not grief-quiet.

Predator-quiet.

The kind of silence that waits. Watches.

The shadows don’t move. Not yet.

Buthe’s here. I know it.

The pressure builds behind my eyes, beneath my skin. It’s not a sound, but Ihearit anyway—a whisper that skims the inside of my skull like a knife.

My sweet, foolish Snow Pea… Did you think I would wait forever?

A shiver wracks my spine and I bite down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood. It grounds me. Keeps me upright. He let me see this.He wanted me to see this.

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