Page 76 of When Death Whispers

I just press my head against the tile. Close my eyes and keep breathing with him.

For now, that’s enough.

28

The couch isstiff and uncomfortable beneath me, but that’s not what’s keeping me up. It’s her scent—orange blossom and something scorched beneath it. Sulfur and smoke. Possession.

I cleaned the cushions the best I could, but no amount of soap can wash away what I saw. Not what happened between her and that beast—though that alone is enough to hollow me out—but what came after.

The way she looked curled in the shower. Shaking. Silent. Ashamed.

I close my eyes, but all I see is her fingers pressed to the tile, her mouth open in a sob, and me—useless. Too late. Too slow. Too wrapped up in my own anger to see what she really needed.

I scrub a hand down my face, the memory of her pressed to the tile playing on loop. Her broken voice when she told me she couldn’t breathe. The way she flinched at the silence. How small she looked when she finally reached for me—like she wasn’t sure she deserved to.

She asked me to stay. So I did.

I sat beside her bed until her breaths evened out and her hand went limp in mine.

And still I couldn’t sleep. Not when my mind keeps circling all the ways I failed her.

I let my ego drive a wedge between us. I judged her. I lashed out when I should’ve listened. I turned her pain into something about me, and that makes me no better than the monsters who’ve stalked her from the start.

The room is bright, early afternoon light spilling through the windows like a lie. Everything looks soft and golden, but the weight of last night still presses down on my chest like a fucking anchor.

That shadowy fucker is always watching, always lurking, slipping in through the smallest cracks. And he wants Parker.

I know because I felt it.

I felt it again last night when I went to the bathroom to check on her. My limbs went weak. My vision tunneled. Something drained the strength right out of me, just like it did on the porch when I almost…

The second he was gone, the weakness vanished.

He’s feeding off me. And I don’t know how or why, but I know one thing for sure: I’m running out of time.

And I can’t keep stumbling around blind.

I have no idea how to survive in this world Parker lives in—the one with demons and shadows and things that hunt in the dark. But I know I can’t keep doing what I’ve been doing. I can’t keep reacting out of fear and calling it protection.

If I want her to trust me, I have to be better. I have to learn how tolisten.

No more judgment. No more blind rage. Just… understanding. Even if I don’t understand.

Especially when I don’t.

Mind made up, I head for her room.

I knock once—gentle—but I don’t wait. If I give her the chance, she’ll lock me out again, and I don’t think I could handle that. Not after last night.

I push the door open, already forming the words in my head. I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please let me fix this.

What I’m not prepared for is the sight in front of me.

Parker’s on the floor. Yoga mat out. Spandex shorts. Sports bra. Hair piled in a messy knot on top of her head. Her back is arched, her ass in the air, her thighs flexing—and every coherent thought leaves my fucking brain.

All I can think is:Jesus fucking Christ.

And then:Oh no.

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