Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Luna
Iclimb through my bedroom window onto the balcony with a cup of Sleepytime tea.
Shadow follows, his massive frame making the window opening look tiny as he squeezes through.
The familiar ritual should be relaxing, settling into one of the two Adirondack chairs I placed out here, with the small bistro table within arm’s reach and the chamomile scent rising from my mug.
But tonight, nothing feels familiar.
I never understood why someone removed the French doors that once opened onto the balcony, replacing them with this one oversized window.
Grandpa told me his great-great-great-grandfather had them replaced after a fugitive used them to break into the house.
He always intended to install new doors, but he never got around to it before his death.
I plan to do it myself when I have the time and money, but everything goes into the sanctuary for now.
I love the tranquility of this place. The isolation and privacy it provides. The quiet from being miles from the closest neighbor. It’s always been my refuge.
But something has shifted. The same isolation and silence that used to wrap around me now press down. The trees—once a barrier—now hold something, or someone, behind them.
Watching.
Goosebumps erupt across my arms and won’t fade no matter how many times I rub them away.
The unease coils in my stomach and twists itself into a knot.
My body hums with an anticipation I refuse to name, a dark excitement that makes me feel sick even as it draws my attention back to the tree line again and again.
I shove the feeling down deep and try to pretend it isn’t there at all.
I take a sip of tea and pretend I’m not straining to catch every sound from the darkness beyond. Shadow’s ears perk up, twitching at each rustle from the surrounding forest. I mirror his alertness, my shoulders rigid, unlike the usual ease I feel out here.
The main house sits at the edge of the sanctuary property, offering seclusion and a sense of being part of the wild landscape I love. Usually, this remoteness is comforting. Tonight, it amplifies my awareness of how alone I am out here. How vulnerable.
The other night could have been nothing. It could have been an animal in the woods. This afternoon could have been the same thing. But I have no explanation for how ejaculate got on my window. When I scrubbed it clean this afternoon, the evidence was undeniable. It was come.
Beside me, Shadow lets out a low growl and rises, walking to the railing. He rests his head on it, every line of his body taut with attention, eyes fixed on the tree line.
My heart thumps in my chest as I stand and follow his gaze. At first, there’s nothing except shadows shifting in the breeze, but then that familiar sensation crawls up my spine. Electric, invasive, like invisible fingers trailing across my skin.
Something catches my eye as I start to turn away.
A glint of something that looks like metal at the forest’s edge.
I freeze, my breathing shallow and rapid.
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears, drowning out the night sounds.
The mug trembles in my grip, tea sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
Stay calm. You’re stronger than this. You’ve faced down wounded predators many times. This is just—
Then I see it. The outline of a figure among the trees, motionless and watching.
Shadow’s growls increase in volume, his whole body vibrating with them, and terror floods through me.
My knees threaten to give out. But my vision sharpens, hunting for movement in the dark.
Every instinct screams at me to dive into my window, hide, and get away from those eyes watching me.
My throat constricts, and I have to force myself to breathe through my nose.
Grandpa’s shotgun. It’s in the cabinet at the end of the hall. How long would it take me to get to it? Faster than whoever that is to reach the house?
I blink hard, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, and when I open them…
Nothing. Just trees and shadows and the ordinary darkness of night.
“Shit.”
The word escapes before I can stop it. My hands are shaking now, a fine tremor that makes me clench my fists.
Get it together, Luna. You imagined it. You had to have imagined it.
But my body doesn’t care what I tell it. My pulse hammers in my ears, and my palms slick with sweat despite the cool night air.
I grip Shadow’s collar, needing the solid warmth of him to anchor me. “Come on, baby. Time for bed.”
He resists, still focused on whatever we just saw, and I have to pull harder than usual. The effort makes my muscles tremble with leftover adrenaline. When he relents, I scramble through the window, panicked and clumsy.
Shadow squeezes through behind me, and I close and lock it, my fingers fumbling with the latch.
I press my face to the glass, searching the darkness beyond the yard for any sign of that metallic glint, that human silhouette.
My breath fogs the window, and I wipe it clear with my sleeve, but there's nothing there.
The absence of a visible threat doesn’t calm the storm in my chest. My heart pounds a rhythm against my ribs that won’t slow, and my stomach twists and untwists in a relentless churning.
Fear drives most of it. The raw, animal kind that floods your veins and screams at you to run.
But underneath the terror, threaded through it like dark ribbons, is a sickening pulse of excitement.
My fingers hover over the curtain’s edges, and I’m caught between two opposing forces.
The rational part of my brain, the part that’s kept me alive through years of working with dangerous animals, pounds a warning through my skull.
Danger. It could be the poachers Karen warned about.
Or worse, maybe Maren’s right. It might be Caleb.
I should close the curtains. Double-check the locks downstairs. Maybe even swallow my pride and call Karen, like Maren suggested.
But another part of me thrills at this game of watcher and watched. If someone is out there, hidden in the dark, who are they? What do they want?
The gap I left in the curtains the last two nights was a whim, a reckless invitation to what? The possibility of whoever, or whatever, was watching? Tonight, knowing there is actually someone out there, I’m torn between pulling them closed and leaving them open.
“This is how people die in horror movies,” I say to Juni as she leaps onto the windowsill. She responds with a judgmental meow that somehow manages to sound disapproving of my life choices. “Fine, compromise it is.”
My hands shake as I adjust the curtains, leaving the largest gap yet. Enough to see out, and enough to be seen. Especially if someone were to climb onto the balcony again.
What the hell? Why am I even contemplating that as a possibility?
I consider getting Grandpa’s gun, but I can’t stand the thought of leaving a loaded weapon out with Shadow and the cats in the room.
Instead, I force myself through my bedtime routine on autopilot—showering, brushing my teeth, and snuggling my babies.
All the while, my mind keeps returning to that figure and the metallic gleam in the forest. The absolute stillness of whoever was watching me.
Was it real? Or a figment of my imagination?
I slip into bed, and when I reach for the lamp, I see my phone charging on my nightstand. I pick it up and pull up Karen’s number. My finger shakes as it hovers over the call button, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to dial.
I set it down again, and my gaze returns to the window and the gap in the curtains. The forest beyond reveals nothing but darkness. Yet as I settle against the pillows, my pulse slowing, I can’t shake the bone-deep certainty of what I saw.
Someone is out there.
Someone is watching me from my woods.