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It’s almost like you’re being watched.
Like the shadow of the Arrendells looming over Redhaven is this invisible force, always staring down from every corner, leering and watching your every movement—
Crack.
I go stiff as somethingsnapsoutside.
Wrapping my arms tighter around Ophelia, I gather her close.
Maybe that feeling ain’t just my imagination after all.
Because that sure as hell sounded like somebody stepping on leaves in my yard.
Moving stealthily, I lift myself up to peer through the window over the headboard without jostling her.
There’s a solid view of the front from there.
While common sense tells me it’s just a critter or the wind skittering yard debris across the driveway, my instincts smell a rat.
Or rather, a tall, ominous skinny figure standing on the walk right outside my fucking house, staring up at the window like he knows I’m looking back.
Same dude.
Thin. Grey hair. Tailcoat.
The asshole stalker.
Pure primal instinct takes over—can’t let him escape again.
I jolt out of bed with Ophelia’s startled cry trailing me, pelting across the floor and leaping downstairs two at a time.
Pure frustration drives me like I’m a human engine and someone just poured white-hot fuel through me.
That man, whoever he is, can’t be up to any good.
He’s a threat.
The fact that he scared the bejeezus out of the woman I love is enough reason to pound him senseless.
Like hell I’ll let him get away.
I streak through the house, momentum throwing me to the front door and out to the porch.
The moment I tear the door open, the man starts, stumbling back.
He’s fucking real.
Not just my imagination.
Definitely not an illusion as I catch a glimpse of a haggard, wrinkled face, fearful black eyes, and a mouth pulled down in a sagging curve.
We lock eyes for a split second.
I smell pure dread in his face.
Then he turns and bolts into the night.
He’s spry for an old stalkery fuck, and he’s got a head start—not that it stops me from rocketing after him.
