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The barn is enormous. Earlier, it was packed with vendors, food stands, and a bar. Now employees are shoving tables against the doors while hundreds of frightened people crowd together beneath emergency lights that flicker a sickly yellow overhead.

Then the phones come out.

Panic spreads almost immediately.

“No signal.”

“Mine either.”

“What that fuck?”

“Call 911.”

“I’m trying!”

My stomach drops.

Of course there’s still no fucking service.

Because apparently tonight was written by someone who hates me personally.

I rip my phone from my pocket anyway.

Nothing.

“No. No, come on.”

I hit Mariah’s name. The call fails.

“Fuck.”

I try again. Nothing.

Ali.

Failed.

“Fuck!” I shout, gripping my phone hard enough that my fingers hurt.

“They’re coming.”

I spin towards Malakai. He’s still beside me, calm as fuck while my entire fucking world feels like its unreaveling. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Something about the certainty in his voice makes me pause. “How?”

He doesn’t answer. His head tilts to the side. At first, I think he’s looking at me. Then I realize he isn’t.

He’s listening.

Not to the people crying around us. Not to the employees shouting near the doors or the terrified voices filling the barn.

Something else.

Something I can’t hear.

A chill crawls over my skin.