A grainy image of me sitting beside Noel in his truck pops up next.
For a heartbeat, I can’t move.
The words blur.My throat tightens.
No.No, no, no.
A gust of wind rattles the windowpane, and I realize the house is too quiet—no hum of the heater, no creak of settling wood.Just my pulse hammering in my ears.
Then another text blinks across the screen.
Unknown Caller
Wakey wakey, Holly.Time to cancel the gala before it’s too late.Oh, and if you think Maplewood is safe, trust me, it isn’t far enough to keep me away.
Cold floods my veins.
I can’t breathe.
Can’t think.
The warmth from the fire, from Noel’s body wrapped around mine, vanishes in an instant—like someone opened a window and let all the safety out.
He found me.
Through my phone.This crazy stalker tracked me.
We’re not safe here.
I must make a sound—something small and strangled—because Noel shifts behind me, the hand resting on my waist tightening protectively.
His voice is gravel-soft but immediately alert.
“Holly?What is it?”
I can’t speak.I just turn and hold the phone out with shaking fingers.
He takes one look at the screen—and everything in him changes.
The affection, the easy comfort, the post-storm glow in his eyes?Gone.
Replaced with something cold and deadly.
A soldier, awake and on a mission.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.
Then he’s up, already pulling on jeans, sliding his gun into a shoulder holster, grabbing his phone with quick, practiced hands.
“He’s been piggybacking your GPS,” he says, voice clipped.“Probably set it up weeks ago—before the gala prep even started.Could’ve been through a corrupted link, or maybe a press badge scanner at the preview.Doesn’t take much these days.”
I clutch the blanket tighter around me, heart slamming against my ribs.
“How?I—I don’t even know?—”
“It doesn’t matter.”His tone slices through my panic like a blade.“We’ll find out later.Right now, we prioritize containment.”
He strides to the window, scanning the yard.White still falls in thick, blinding waves.It should feel peaceful.It doesn’t.
