Page 34 of Like Grim Death: Part One
My stomach turns hard, my throat closing up as I gag.
The silver eyes watch from a corner of the room. Something scuttles on the floor, behind me. I whip my head around and swear I feel my neck crack, my hands still deep in what I think is… blood.
“Who’s there?” I gasp it, like I can’t get volume to my question. “Who?” I try again, but it comes out fainter still, as if my voice is seeping from me.
A baby cries in the dark. A sharp, jagged sound that sends the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
I suck in air, but it’s as if there’s a plastic bag over my mouth, sealing my airway, and when I turn in the other direction, sensing something close, tooclose, those gray eyes are inches from my face, but they’re looking at me upside down.
Like the body they’re attached to is…hanging.
“Maverick.”I gasp out the ghost of his name as I sit up straight in bed. I bat down the covers, turning to his side, but in the dark, I see no one.
I swipe my hand along the empty sheets, trying to feel for his warmth, but there is nothing but ice cold.
Swallowing the fuzziness of my dry mouth, I turn to look at the clock beside my bed.
It’s three a.m.
My stomach sinks and swoops and dives, like a crow feasting for carrion.He should be back.
I reach for my phone on my nightstand, but just before my fingers can close around it, I hear a creak downstairs.
I freeze, rememberingwhy I woke up.
There was a noise, wasn’t there? Like a door closing?
My breaths are shallow pants, only sips of air, but I reason with myself it has to be Maverick. Maybe he just went outside to smoke.
I fling the covers back, cold air whipping around my legs, bare from the knees down. I’m in Maverick’s gym shorts, the cord tied tight to my waist, a white T-shirt of his that hits my thighs.
I grab my phone, knocking over a packet of Benadryl tablets. They thwack against the hardwood, but I don’t pick them up. They’re the only reason I was able to sleep tonight, knowing he wasn’t back fromherhouse yet.
I click on my phone screen, but there’s nothing. No missed calls, no texts.
I stand, slipping down from the bed, and hurry across the room, only pausing a second before I pull open the door, the cold from the hall frostier than in the bedroom.
I tiptoe over to the second-floor railing and call out in the dark, “Maverick?” My mind flickers to the nightmare as my voice cracks, like I’m losing it as I did in my dream.
I circle my fingers tighter around my phone, feeling my pulse beat heavy and deep in my neck.
Silence greets my question, and I hold my breath, waiting. No one broke in. They knew the code, or an alarm would have gone off. But on the other hand, if it was Mav, he’d say something, wouldn’t he? And he’s always worried fingerprints can be stolen, biometrics hacked. I’ve heard him mentioning it to Lucifer in low whispers.
I edge toward the top of the stairs, thinking of the pepper spray in my nightstand. The gun in Mav’s. He didn’t bring it. He said he didn’t want it around Rain. He said, on this street, we’re safe.
Chills grow colder along my skin the longer the silence stretches on.
Did he find out? About Atlas?
My stomach flips. But no. If he did, he wouldn’t wait. He’s not patient. If he knew, he’d be flying up these stairs and he’d…
I push the thought aside. No way he knows, or Atlas would be dead, and I’d be close to. But maybe he just got back from digging his grave.
I don’t make a sound though, because Maverick doesn’t play games like these.
Atlas though…“Just try it, Ella. Be something besides his puppet for the night.”
Shattering the memory from a month ago at Rain’s party, the floor shifts downstairs, just inside the foyer.
