She drove down this road. Alone. Probably angry and heartbroken, definitely distracted. The thought hits me like a fist and I scream into the quiet of my car.
The barn rises from the dark exactly where Atlas said it would. It’s abandoned and splintering at the edges. The wood iswarped and sagging as if it’s been holding its breath for years. The metal roof is streaked with rust, eaten through in places. There are no other cars in sight, which means hers was moved. I grit my teeth as the panic rises. The open land stretches too far in every direction.
As I stop and turn my car off, I hear engines approach behind me. One by one, the others arrive in staggered formation. Taking another breath, I grab my torch as we step out almost in sync. The air is colder here. Damp. It clings to my skin and carries the smell of earth and rot. But it’s too still. Too silent, the kind that presses against your ears.
My pulse slows to an almost sluggish beat as I hyper-focus on the scene in front of me.
I hear the cock of a gun behind me; I don’t need to turn to know one of the guys is covering my six. Atlas flanks my left as Victor and Riggs sweep wide. I realise then that Felix is the one behind me, staying close.
The barn doors hang crooked, mud laid thick around the entrance like a rug. I jolt at what’s in front of me. I feel Felix more than see him bend down beside me to inspect the tyre tracks. They’re fresh, cutting deep through older ones. I move closer, scanning the ground for a clue. To the left, the earth is churned. Not from rain but a struggle. Boot prints overlapping each other as drag marks pull away. My vision tunnels as I crouch over it slowly.
Something metallic catches the light just beneath the mud. I reach down and pull it free. It’s a silver chain that I quickly clean… her bracelet.
Fear, cold and absolute, floods my veins so fast it almost makes me dizzy. My hand tightens around the broken metal until it bites into my palm.
She was here. She fought.
My chest constricts as fear floods my veins. The kind that doesn’t scream but hollows. An image of her struggling flashes so violently it nearly drops me to my knees. I blink hard, trying to force myself back into focus. Beside me, Felix makes a sound. It’s broken and raw and I turn my head slowly to see he’s staring at my hand. At the bracelet.
Felix’s face has drained of colour, his eyes locked on the snapped chain like if he looks long enough it will undo itself.
“That’s hers?” He breathes, but it isn’t really a question.
Something inside me fractures at the way his voice trembles. They might joke about the twin bond, but I see it. The silent understanding they’ve always had, the way they seek each other out for comfort.
“It is,” I say evenly, even though my insides feel like they’re being flayed open.
Felix swallows hard. His jaw works, but nothing comes out. I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him violent but I have never seen him look like this.
My fear mutates instantly into something far more dangerous. Whoever touched her, whoever dragged her across this ground like she was something to be discarded, they didn’t just take the woman I love. They took Felix’s other half. And that makes this personal in a way that transcends logic.
I rise slowly, scanning the barn doors. The wood is splintered near the handle. Fresh scuff marks line the lower panels.
“She fought,” Felix mutters, staring at the drag marks. His voice cracks halfway through the sentence.
“Of course she did,” I reply, but my voice is empty.
There’s a sharp metallic taste in my mouth and I realise I must have been biting my cheek. The pain in my chest is too much to mask it. My fingers curl tighter around the broken bracelet until the chain cuts into my skin as my eyes flick over everything in front of me.
A shiver racks through my body like we’re being watched. I want to turn and run toward it.
But I don’t.
Let them watch.
Let them feel safe.
Because the fear that is trying to suffocate me right now…
It’s about to become theirs.
CHAPTER 38
FAE
Pain arrives before memory does. A dull, spreading ache that lives behind my eyes and seeps slowly into my bones like cold water through cracked stone. My limbs feel weighted and heavy in a way that doesn’t belong to sleep. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
There’s something wrong with the air. It smells stale. Metallic. Damp. For a long moment, I don’t open my eyes. Because opening them would mean acknowledging whatever this is. My head throbs in a slow rhythm. Each pulse feels thick and distant, like it’s travelling through syrup before it reaches me. I try to move my fingers and they respond but sluggishly, like they’re not fully attached to the rest of me.