Her stomach dropped.
No one was supposed to come up.
Her eyes darted to the lift panel. The light hadn’t changed; she hadn’t buzzed anyone up.
But he was there.
Just standing.
And then he looked up right at the camera.
Faolan froze. The glass slipped from her hand, hitting the carpet with a dullping, water soaking into the rug in slow, expanding silence.
Her breath froze in her lungs.
She stepped back from the monitor like it had bitten her.
And then…
All three screens went black.
“No,” she whispered.
She fumbled for her phone on the table, her heart hammering in her throat.
The door beeped.
Unlocked.
Her mouth dried.
The revolver was in the master bedroom, but the hall to reach it stretched like a corridor in a nightmare. Too long. Too exposed.
The taser. It was in the guest bedroom right where Thane had insisted she keep it, on the coffee table.
“Just in case,” he’d said.
She’d rolled her eyes and told him he was being paranoid.
But now…now she ran.
She passed the kitchen island and snatched the biggest knife from the block with shaking hands. Then she bolted into the guest room and snatched the taser with trembling hands before she darted into the closet and shoved the door shut behind her.
Darkness. Her breath felt loud in the small space. The thud of her heart louder.
She held the knife tight in one hand, the taser clutched in the other.
Footsteps, slow and measured.
The crunch of broken glass in the hallway.
Then…
“Faolan…”
His voice.
Sing-song. Familiar.
