92. Allison
92
ALLISON
I shut off the water and step out of the shower, steam curling around my ankles like it doesn’t want to let go.
The air is thick and heavy with a warning.
I shiver. That thought is morbid. I don’t know why I’m overreacting.
I grab a towel, wrap it around myself, and rake my fingers through my damp hair.
Then I hear a sound. It’s soft. A faint creek from outside the closed door.
I freeze, towel mid-motion.
“Connor?”
No answer.
I tilt my head, listening.
But it’s silent.
It’s probably the pipes. Or the bungalow settling. Stop overreacting.
Still, the back of my neck prickles.
I dress quickly, pulling on a pair of shorts and one of Connor’s worn, oversized T-shirts, then crack open the bathroom door.
My bare feet meet the cool floor as I step into the main room.
Something feels… off.
Not loud or obvious. Just wrong.
Then I see that the front door is slightly ajar.
I still.
I always shut it, listening for the click of the lock after I close it.
I double-checked it before I got in the shower.
Maybe Gram forgot something. Maybe she came back and didn’t close it all the way and Peyton didn’t notice.
I scan the room.
Nothing seems out of place.
But the hair on the back of my neck stands up. My skin tightens.
And then I feel the warm breath on the back of my neck. A light footstep that’s too close.
Before I can turn, arms clamp around me from behind. His hold is tight, crushing my midsection. A cold blade presses against my throat.
I gasp, but the sound is too quiet for anyone to hear.
A low, calm voice drips into my ear, sharp as the blade against my skin.
“Do exactly as I say… and you’ll live.”