Page 9 of Bound By Song

Breathe, Evie. You’ve got this. You don’t have to open the door. They’ll leave soon enough and you’ll be safe once more. Just keep quiet and keep breathing.

I bite my lip, weighing my options, when someone knocks again. “If you’re in there,” one of them calls lightly. It sounds like the teasing one. I bet it’s the redhead. He looked far too happy. I bet he never takes anything seriously. “We’re not murderers or anything, I promise.”

Ohthatfills me with confidence. Not.

The dry one snorts. “Great reassurance.”

The first one sighs, clearly losing patience. “We just need directions. We’re lost. That’s all.”

Lost? What are they even doing out here? The nearest village – Silver – is a good couple of miles away, the closest town even further, and this farmhouse isn’t exactly on the tourist trail. And he said they were looking for someone, now they’re lost? I smell a rat.

When I don’t answer, they murmur amongst themselves, their voices too low for me to catch.

My chest tightens. They’re not leaving.Why aren’t they leaving?

Oh god. What if they try to break in?

I glance at the back door. Maybe if I’m fast enough, I can?—

A creak.

My eyes snap to the front door. One of them is trying the handle.

Panic flares, and I dart into the kitchen, grabbing the nearest thing I can find: a rolling pin. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. I mean, it was my Grams’ and it’s made of solid marble with wooden handles and it weighs a tonne and could easily kill someone, so it’s not like I grabbed a dishrag. But still…

Another creak. The door doesn’t budge – thank God I keep it locked, even out here on my own thanks to the paranoia instilled in me by Grams when she was alive – but the deep-voiced one speaks again, more insistent this time.

“Listen, we’re not here to cause trouble.” Whoever that is sounds thoroughly fed up now. “We’re just trying to find our rental property. If you could give us directions, we’ll be on our way.”

Rental property? That explains the car, at least, if they’renotgovernment workers…and I don’tthinkthey are. It could be a trap though. But it doesn’t explain why they think they belonghere. The farmhouse is the furthest thing from a rental possible. It almost makes me snort, but I won’t risk giving myself away.

I clutch the rolling pin tighter, edging back towards the hallway. The neutralisers hum louder in my ears, but they do nothing to calm my racing heart.

I should have worn a scent blocker today too. I usually save that for the days when I’m forced to leave the house and head into town for supplies, because it’s expensive and I don’t have an unending supply, but maybe I’ll have to start wearing it daily. Especially if unannounced visitors are going to become a regular thing.

The dry one mutters something I can’t quite make out, but it makes the teasing one laugh. “Yeah, I reckon she’s probably scared out of her mind right now.”

They know I’m here. And they’re laughing at me. At my fear. God, maybe they can smell it.

I know one thing for certain: these alphas aren’t leaving until Imakethem.

I take a deep breath, steadying my grip on the rolling pin, channelling my feistier, braver sister, Evelyn. It’s ridiculous, really – three massive alphas outside, and I’m armed with nothing but a kitchen utensil. But I’ve got no intention of opening that door unless I absolutely have to.

“All right, then,” the deep-voiced one calls. “If you don’t want to talk, we’ll figure it out ourselves. But…” A pause. “You might want to check your door. The lock seems a bit loose.”

My heart stutters. The lockisold. I’ve been meaning to replace it for years, but I never imagined it might come to this. That’s the trouble with old properties; you’re always chasing repair after repair. There’s never any respite from it, never a day off. Something always needs doing and frankly, I’m exhausted.

My sisters wanted to sell this place and split the profits after Grams died and we eventually came of age, but unlike the otherswho were eager to spread their wings and start living their life, I couldn’t bear to leave the safety and comfort of the only home I’ve ever known. Even if it was a prison at times. And so I got to remain in the property when they left, but that also means that all of the maintenance and upkeep falls to me too.

However, mentally, I’m moving new locks to the top of the list of urgent shit Ihaveto do.

The teasing one chimes in, “We’ll just…leave a note or something. Yeah?”

A scuffling sound follows – footsteps moving closer to the windows, boots scratching against the old wooden porch. It’s desperately in need of sanding down. I press my back against the wall, holding my breath as the shadow of one of them passes outside the kitchen window.

“Doesn’t look abandoned,” the teasing one says, his voice closer now. “Bit of a mess, sure, but someone’s living here.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” the deep one mutters.

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