Page 107 of When Death Whispers

But then they narrow in rage.

That makes two of us, little mortal.

40

Parker is gone.

One second, she was here. The next?

Nothing. Vanished. Stolen. Ripped away. And I—I just stood there. I let it happen.

A scream claws at my throat, but it won’t come out. My pulse is a war drum, beating against my ribs, pounding in my ears, drowning out everything except the single, horrifying truth?—

I lost her.

Her monster took her.

Ifailedher.

I stagger back, my chest tightening, my vision tilting as the bakery spins around me.

The copper stench of blood thickens the air. Donovan’s lifeless eyes staring at me. Jenna’s lifeless body, sprawled across the bakery floor. My stomach lurches at the sight and my knees nearly buckle.

They’re dead. They’re fucking dead.

And Parker—fuck.

That shadowy piece of shit took her.

I need to do something. I need to fix this. Before I even process it, I’m reaching for my phone, fingers dialing on muscle memory.

9-1-1.

Because that’s what you do, right?

When someone is taken, when someone is murdered, when you’re standing in the middle of a goddamn crime scene and don’t know what the fuck else to do?

You call the police.

They come. They help. That’s how this works.

Right?

It takes two rings before the dispatcher picks up.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

I try to answer, but my brain stalls, glitching, breaking.

Jenna’s body. Donovan’s body. Parker fucking gone.

“I—” The word sticks, my throat locking up. “I need—I need help. There’s been?—”

What the fuck do I even say?

Two dead. One missing. No suspects. No clues. No nothing.

And me?

---