Page 26 of Resurgent

It's too early for Matt to be here for lunch, and Korr won’t be home for at least another hour.

A terrifying realization hits me all at once:

I should be asleep right now.

This is the same time I’ve been sleeping every day thanks to my meds kicking in like clockwork—my body demanding more rest than I want to give it.

Which means someone could have been watching me. Learning my patterns. Waiting.

That thought flickers through my mind right as a creak echoes into the living room—

The sound is faint, easily dismissible as a natural house settling noise if I hadn’t heard the front door—if I hadn’t memorized every floorboard groan, committing each one to memory for a moment exactly like this.

Whoever it is doesn't know that I decided to stop taking the pills so that my mind wouldn't feel so foggy, which gives me an advantage I'm sure I'll need.

Slowly, carefully, I lower the book into my lap. My breathing stays even, measured, but every muscle in my body tightens beneath the blanket.

Bile creeps up my throat, and I know in my gut that I’m not alone.

My gaze flicks toward the hallway at the same time as I soundlessly slink off the couch, bare feet carrying me toward the kitchen in practiced silence. Every step is placed with deliberate precision, avoiding the boards I know will betray me.

I’ve practiced for this very thing every day after Korr has left, since the day I woke up.

At the counter, my hand closes around the handle of a knife, the weight of it is grounding and familiar. I don’t miss the irony that this is exactly how I got to Scion, but this time, I won’t miss.

Silently, I rush back into the living room—but not to my spot in the chair. Instead, I angle myself in the shadowed blind spot that my would-be attacker will have to walk past to get to my room.

I settle into position, knees slightly bent, knife held close to my healing thigh, as I mentally prepare myself to fight someone for the first time in the last month.

Whoever is here moves again, and another board complains beneath their weight.

They pause, as realization strikes: they don’t know the house.

They don’t know which boards to avoid or which ones will give them away, which means they haven’t been inside before. Or—not enough to learn it.

My eyes narrow, tracking the faint shift of shadow spilling into the room.

I wait—

For them to take one more step.

Into the light. Into my line. Into my reach.

And as they do, I pounce.

The knife is pressed tightly into their throat, my left hand pulling their hooded head back to give me full exposure to their artery.

Their hands shoot into the air in submission, but I’m not that gullible.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you sneaking in here?”

“Can you loosen that a bit?” a scratchy but familiar female voice asks.

“Oh shit. Sorry, ma’am.”

I drop the knife to my side as Captain Lin turns toward me, her hands still in the air, her movements still slow.

“Impressive,” she admits, a smile on her face as a trickle of blood slips down her throat.