Then Max climbs back onto the bed.
The dog circles once before deliberately shoving himself against my back, planting his paws firmly into my spine until I’m trapped between eighty pounds of stubborn dog and the edge of the mattress.
I twist . “Seriously?” Max huffs without opening his eyes.
The message is painfully clear.
I’m not going anywhere.
And judging by the warm shape of Lila sleeping only inches away from me, neither is my sanity.
LILA
Wind is screamingin my ears. The sky is wrong, green and churning, and there’s nowhere to go. No car, no ditch, no shelter. Just open ground and a tornado bearing down on me, massive and unstoppable, chewing up everything in its path.
I can’t move.
Debris whips past me, sharp and fast, stinging my skin. The air feels like it’s being ripped out of my lungs. And through all of it, over the roar, I hear my dad’s voice.
Run, Lila. Now.
I try. My legs won’t listen.
Lila—
I come out of the nightmare gasping, the breath tearing out of my chest and turning into a scream. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape, and when I jerk upright, pain slices through my shoulder, hot and immediate.
For a second, I don’t know where I am. I’m half in it, feeling the wind, hearing him.
“Lila?” Jonah’s voice cuts through the noise, close and sharp with concern. The mattress shifts as he bolts upright beside me. “What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth, but before I can answer, the bed starts shaking.
Not subtly. Not gently. Violently.
The entire mattress jolts beneath us, a deep, rattling vibration that makes my teeth clack together. The cheap lamp on the nightstand flickers like it’s about to die, throwing jerky shadows across the room. And then, because apparently this night isn’t done with me yet, music blasts from somewhere above us.
Elvis Presley. Loud. Dramatic. Completely ridiculous.
“What the—” I choke out, trying to catch up with reality.
“The bed!” Jonah shouts over the music, already fumbling around like he’s trying to disarm a bomb. “It must be—I think there’s?—”
The vibration ramps up, the whole thing shaking like we’re in the middle of an earthquake. I grab at the sheets with my good hand, trying to steady myself, which does absolutely nothing. Max yelps and launches himself off the bed, nails skidding across the floor before he disappears under the table.
“Make it stop!” I snap, my pulse racing from the nightmare. My shoulder throbs with every jolt, sharp and relentless.
Jonah scrambles across the mattress, nearly face-planting as he reaches toward the floor. The movement sends me bouncing, which is exactly as painful as it sounds.
“I think it’s—” he grabs a small box with buttons, staring at it like it personally betrayed him. “There’s a timer or?—”
“Just unplug it!” I clutch my sling tighter, bracing my arm as Elvis croons about fools rushing in like that isn’t exactly what we just did.
Jonah dives between the bed and the wall, and suddenly the vibrations stop. The music cuts off mid-verse, plunging the room into blessed silence except for our heavy breathing and Max's concerned whining from under the table.
“What the hell was that?” I gasp.
“I was reaching for the light,” Jonah explains from his awkward position, half-wedged behind the bed. “I must’ve hit something to make it do whatever that was.”
