Page 34 of When Death Whispers

I won’t let him have her.

Parker’s house is lit up like a beacon, every window glowing with warm yellow light. Before, when I’d drive by, I’d wonder why she always had the lights on, but now I know… It’s protection. A buffer between her and the thing that hunts in the dark.

I glance at the windows, at the soft silhouette of her moving inside. Still here. Still safe.

For now.

I shove the door open, stepping out into the chill. The shadows around the yard seem darker than they should be. Watching. Waiting.

I exhale slowly, letting the cold burn through the heat in my chest. “Alright,” I mutter, scanning the yard, the woods beyond. “If you’re still out there, you want me—take me. And leave Parker the hell alone.”

The trees don’t answer. The shadows stay still.

But that buzzing in my bones doesn’t stop.

I linger awhile, waiting for something to come. A sign. A growl. A flicker. Anything. But the dark just presses in—too quiet. Too patient.

Eventually, I force myself back into the Jeep, slam the door, and pull away from her house, casting one last glance in the rearview.

She’s safe.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her that way.

Even if it means falling apart.

14

The first thingI do when I get home is lock the door. Twice. Then I twist the deadbolt for good measure, testing it to make sure it’s solid. It clicks into place with a finality that should make me feel safe.

It doesn’t.

The house is warm and bright, every light I own glowing like a fortress of artificial sunlight. I kick off my boots near the door, leaving them in a messy pile, and toss my bag in the corner. My muscles ache from hours of decorating cakes and hauling trays, but the worst ache is in my chest.

Hudson’s strained smile flashes across my mind. In the span of a day his entire life has changed, shattering everything he thought he believed in and replacing it with monsters and nightmares.

The kettle hisses on the stove as I change into a hoodie and flannel pajama pants. It’s part of my routine: tea, pajamas, lights. Always the lights. Even during the daytime I keep them on, usually. It used to work, and sunlight used to be enough of a deterrent, but now… I’m not sure my monster is playing by the same rules anymore. He’s stronger somehow, more insistent, and he wants something… more. More than before.

By the time I settle on the couch, a steaming mug in hand, I should feel calm. Comfortable. But the weight pressing down on my chest hasn’t lifted.

I set the mug down and reach for the remote, flipping through channels until the soft drone of an old sitcom fills the room. Background noise. That’s all it is. The laughter track feels forced, fake, but it’s better than silence. Anything is better than silence.

Except the noise isn’t enough. There’s a prickle at the back of my neck, an itch I can’t reach. My eyes dart to the corners of the room, searching the edges of the light for anything out of place. Shadows that move when they shouldn’t. Darkness where there’s supposed to be none.

When the lights in the kitchen and living room flicker, I freeze. My breath catches, my pulse quickening as I stare at the bulb in the table lamp closest to me. It steadies, the glow returning to normal, and I let out a shaky laugh. Just a power surge. That’s all.

Then it bursts.

Glass shatters, a pop echoing through the house, leaving me in the dim, shifting light of early morning, shadows stretching across the room. My tea spills as I scramble to my feet, heart pounding.

“Shit,” I whisper, backing away from the darkened doorway. “Not now. Not today.”

But I know better. The air shifts, growing colder, and heavier. My monster is here.

The darkness pools in the kitchen, spreading like ink across the floor, slithering into the edges of the light. A pair of glowing orange eyes emerge from the void and they seem to glare directly into my soul.

“Leave,” I choke out. “You can’t have what you want from me.”

The shadows ripple, and a low growl resonates through the room, vibrating through my bones. The orange eyes burn brighter, locking onto me with an intensity that freezes me in place. My chest tightens, but there’s something else—a pulse of heat that races through me. A dangerous thrill that feels horribly, intoxicatingly wrong.

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