Page 187 of Their Arrangement

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MOVE.

I punched the access code into the panel.

Wrong keypress.

“Fuck!”

My hand shook.

Blood smeared across the touchscreen as I tried again.

Green light.

The door clicked. I didn’t open it gently. I kicked it open with enough force to snap the lock. The impact echoed through the hall behind me—but I didn’t hear it.

I was already inside. Already in the dark. Already seeing everything.

Silence.

Thick.

Wrong.

Like the air had collapsed.

Glass glittered across the hardwood. A vase smashed. A chair flipped on its side like someone had tried to run—or been thrown.

But it wasn’t the mess that stopped me.

It was her.

Cloe.

On the floor.

Half-curled. Barely moving. Her body tucked tight like she was trying to fold into herself and disappear.

Her arms were around her head. Her legs drawn in. Too still. Too quiet. My heart fucking stopped. No sound. No breath. No sign of life.

Just her, crumpled like a doll someone had thrown down too hard.

“Cloe.”

My voice broke around her name. Cracked open like it didn’t belong to me.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t lift her head.

Oh fuck—no.

No no no.

I dropped. Knees slammed into the floor. Glass cut through the fabric of my pants. I didn’t feel it. Didn’t care. I crawled to her. Reached out.

“Cloe,”I said again, quieter this time. My voice shook.

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