My breath caught. I tapped the notification, my finger trembling the second I saw the image.
Him.
Standing on our back patio like he belonged there.
Wearing a calm, blank expression. Like this was just another Tuesday. Like he hadn’t threatened me. Like he hadn’t made my skin crawl with fear foryears.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no?—”
Lucía stirred at the sudden change in my heartbeat, in the way I gripped her. She started to fuss, her soft whines turning sharp.
I triggered the silent alarm on my phone—just like Chase had shown me—and bolted for the nursery door.
“Chase!” My voice cracked under the weight of panic. “Chase, upstairs—now!”
Footsteps thundered up the stairs and down the hall, too heavy, too fast. Chase appeared in the doorway, eyes wide.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
I shoved my phone at him, voice barely audible. “It’s him. He’s here. He’s in thefucking backyard.”
Chase’s entire body went taut.
“I left the door unlocked, Chase.”
He didn’t ask questions.
Didn’t hesitate.
He locked the nursery door.
Then he turned to me, jaw clenched, hands raised slowly like approaching a wild animal. “Okay. Okay, it’s gonna be all right. You’ve got Luci—go to the corner, the rocking chair. Stay low. Hold her tight.”
Lucía was wailing now, tiny limbs flailing in my arms as she fed off the panic flooding the room. I fell into the rocking chair as my knees gave out, curling my body around Luci’s, whispering nonsense into her skin.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you?—”
Chase stood between us and the door, fists clenched like he could hold it shut with sheer will.
And then?—
BANG.
The doorknob shattered inward.
I screamed. Lucía screamed louder.
The door crashed open.
Wood splintered across Chase’s chest, but he didn’t even flinch.
Then there he was.
Peter.
Standing in the nursery doorway, arm raised.
Holding a gun.
