CHAPTER SEVEN
*CLARE
The first tremor was so small I almost thought I imagined it—a faint ripple through the floor beneath my feet as I stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing out my coffee mug.
Then came the real one.
A deep, gut-wrenching groan rose from the earth, followed by a jolt so violent I staggered forward, slamming my hip into the counter. The mug slipped from my hands, shattering against the tile.
The walls shuddered. A low, eerie rumble filled the air, like the Earth was growling. I froze and stared at the light fixture swinging above the kitchen table like a baton and casting dizzying shadows across the ceiling. The cabinets burst open, and dishes and glassware crashed onto the floor.
Then, the house bucked again—harder this time.
I dropped and curled into a crouch beside the kitchen island, my hands covering my head. The windows rattled. A picture frame launched from the wall and smashed just inches from my feet.
From outside, I heard a terrible, splintering crack. The peach tree. The one Mrs. Henderson had loved for years.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, the shaking slowed. Not stopped—just eased into an unsteady, rolling motion, like the ground was catching its breath.
My own breaths came in gasps. My arms and legs were trembling.
Then silence.
Not real silence—the kind that feelswrong. The power was out. No hum from the fridge. No distant buzz of streetlights. Just the sound of my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.
“I’m okay,” I said to no one, my throat raw. I forced myself to my feet, stepping cautiously over the broken dishes.
I made it to the front door and wrenched it open. The porch light was out, but outside, I could see the damage. A telephone pole leaned at a precarious angle. Cracks zigzagged through the pavement. Dust hung thick in the air.
And in the distance, toward Walter’s house—toward the cliffs—something was missing.
Or maybe... something had fallen.
I barely had time to register the thought before I heard running footsteps.
“Clare!”
Ethan.
I turned just as he skidded to a stop in front of me, chest heaving, his face pale beneath the layer of dust coating his skin.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I said, though my body was still shaking. “What about you? What about Walter?”
