No aftermath.
Just speed.
At the bottom, I skid to a stop hard enough to spray snow. Tony pulls up beside me, grinning, claps my shoulder.
“There he is,” he says. “Told you this trip would help.”
I almost believe him.
Then my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Once.
I ignore it.
Twice.
Something in my gut tightens.
I pull it out.
Beth.
I don’t even tell Tony I’m answering. I just step away, boots crunching, and swipe the screen.
“Hey—” I start.
“She’s in your house.”
The world lurches.
“What?”
“Sage,” Beth says. Her voice is shaking. “She broke in. She’s there right now. Vermont. Your house.”
My breath leaves my body in one sharp burst.
“What?” I say automatically. “How could she know—I’m out of the country.”
“It wasn’t me this time,” she whispers. “But these things have a way of getting out. Does anyone in Vermont know? Maybe the bartender at The Ski Shack?”
Cold seeps straight through my gloves.
Shit.
“What is she doing?” I ask.
Beth starts talking.
And my brain fills in the rest without asking permission.
Basement.
Water climbing the concrete walls.
Towels shoved into drains like hands over a screaming mouth.
“She flooded it,” Beth says. “Basement. Bathrooms. Everything.”
