Page 22 of What the Shadows Hide
“You’re Raine Voss.” It isn’t a question.
I blink. “Do I know you?”
“No.” His gaze flicks over me, unreadable. “Small town. People talk.”
Of course they do.
I force a laugh. “Then you already know I’m single-handedly ruining Shadow Falls’ peace and prosperity.”
He studies me for a beat too long, then says, “Can’t ruin what was never peaceful.”
The words shouldn’t make my stomach twist, but they do. “Right.” I glance toward the shelf. “Well, I should?—”
He steps aside, giving me room, but I still feel him behind me when I move past. His presence is magnetic, heavy, like static before lightning.
At the counter, the clerk rings me up in nervous silence. I can feel the stranger’s eyes on my back the whole time.
When I finally turn, he’s leaning against the endcap, his arms crossed, watching me.
“You planning renovations?” he asks.
“Trying to.” I swipe my card, trying not to bristle from his presence.
He nods slowly. “Good luck with that. The valley’s not easy on outsiders.”
“Good thing I’m not leaving,” I say before I can stop myself.
Something sharp flickers in his expression—approval? amusement?—then it’s gone.
He reaches for a pack of batteries on the display, then moves closer. He drops them on the counter beside my things. “You’ll need these. Generator backup.”
I stare at them, then at him. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know the house.”
That makes me look up. “You’ve been there?”
He meets my gaze, unblinking. “Everyone’s been there at some point.” Then he pays for the batteries, slides them toward me, and says quietly, “Consider it neighborly.”
Before I can answer, he’s out the door, sunlight flashing off the glass as it swings shut.
I stand there for a long moment, heart hammering too fast, staring at the batteries in my hand.
“Who was that?” I ask the clerk.
He looks confused. “You don’t know?”
I shake my head, turning toward the windows. The parking lot is empty.
The kid crosses his arms. When I look back at him, he’s staring at me with a dumbfounded look on his face.
“That’d be Tristan Blackwell.”
The name lands like a chill.
Of course it is.
I don’t say a word. Just numbly head for the door, my purchases in hand.
