XXXIX
The driveway was a junkyard of mud-caked trucks.
Ford’s search party looked like they were gearing up for a war they didn’t expect to win—hollow-eyed, cinching straps, checking flashlights, radios, and whatever else they thought might help.
No one looked up as the Nova rolled in. To them, we were just another car in a morning already defined by ruin.
“I have to go,” I said, my hand reaching for the handle.
Heaton’s hand shot out and caught my wrist. He didn’t pull me back. His grip was only a steady, icy weight.
“Set your expectations, Madeline,” he said, voice low. “They’ve spent the last twelve hours searching for a girl who no longer exists.”
I looked back at him, at the ghost who had traded everything for my light.
“I know,” I said. “But they probably think I’m dead. And I’m not.”
I looked from him to Ford’s truck, and the contrast made my head spin. Ford was a mess of mud and raw grief—human, bleeding, real. Heaton was . . . stillness and shadows.
Ruby’s voice hissed through my memory.
You should’ve let the shadows have him.
A protective need surged through me.
“I’m going to have to be near him,” I said. “I don’t want you to feel it and decide he’s a threat.”
Heaton’s expression barely changed.
“You think I’m worried about him?”
Blood rushed to my ears. “I just don’t want this getting worse.”
“Go then.”
He released me and leaned back into the shadows of the Nova. His eyes dipped to the oversized black linen shirt hanging off my frame, and a sinful smirk touched his mouth.
“Just don’t expect him to be grateful.”
I yanked the handle.
The door swung open, and the slam broke whatever trance had settled over the porch.
A ceramic mug hit the wood with a wet, shattering crack.
Penny stood there, face sallow, eyes red-rimmed.
“MADELINE!”
She crashed into me, arms locking around my shoulders with enough force to steal the air from my lungs. My ribs screamed. I squeezed my eyes shut and held her anyway, trying to drown out the noise of the bond.
“I thought you were dead,” she choked against my neck. “I thought—Maddie, you didn’t come home—”
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
Over her shoulder, the world exploded into motion.
Ford barreled out of the guest house like a man escaping a burning building. His hair was a mess of sweat and grit, his jacket half-hitched over his shoulders. Wes and Tyler were right behind him.
“Maddie!”
Ford crossed the yard in three massive strides.
He looked wrecked. Bloodshot eyes. Mud on his jaw. A face gone pale from exhaustion.
He reached for me, hands shaking.
Then stopped.
His eyes swept over the purple bruise on my throat. The dried blood at my temple.
Then the shirt.
The expensive dark linen swallowed me whole.
The raw relief in his eyes collapsed into confused horror.
“Maddie,” he said, voice breaking. “What happened? Why do you look like—”
Penny sensed the shift and stepped back.
Ford started toward me again, slower this time, and pulled me into him. His arms wrapped around my back, careful and trembling, holding me like something fragile he was terrified of breaking.
For one second, I let myself sink into him.
Into the warmth of a human body. Into the solid, grounding comfort of a friend who had spent the night fearing the worst. His hand came up to cup the back of my head.
“What happened to you?” he whispered. “Just tell me what happened.”
That was when the air went cold.
Ford’s arms tightened around me, protective and instinctive. He pulled back just enough to look over my shoulder, his body turning into a wall of muscle in front of me.
Heaton stood behind us.
He had materialized from the car without a sound. He wasn’t looking at Ford. He was looking at the hand Ford had tangled in my hair. His expression was terrifyingly blank, but his eyes held a promise of violence so cold it burned.
“You again,” Ford said, his eyes cutting to Heaton before snapping back to me. “Did he hurt you? Maddie, just tell me.”
Heaton answered before I could reach for a lie.
“She fell near the cliffs,” he said. “Hard.”
Ford’s jaw tightened. “And you just found her? Alone?”
“The party was a stampede,” Heaton said, not retreating an inch. “I just happened to find her first.”
“No one saw you at that party.”
“Then you weren’t looking hard enough.” Heaton’s voice stayed flat. “I kept her alive. I suggest you focus on that.”
Ford’s face went from pale to dangerous, mottled red.
“Kept her alive? You’ve had her this whole time?” He took a step toward him. “We’ve been out there for twelve hours! We searched every goddamn inch of those woods—”
“Evidently not.”
I felt the desperate heat radiating off Ford and the bone-deep chill pouring off Heaton.
A collision of elements about to level the yard.
“Ford, stop.”
I stepped between them, and the bond between my ribs sparked with Heaton’s dark amusement.
Ford spun toward me, eyes red and wild.
“Stop? Maddie, he’s had you for twelve hours. He didn’t call anyone.” He threw a murderous look at Heaton. “You’re going to stand there and tell me you trust this guy?”
“He saved me,” I said.
The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of an absolute truth.
“That’s all that matters.”
Ford’s jaw worked, his face a map of shattered pride.
We stared at each other until an electronic chirp broke the silence.
Tyler’s phone.
He stepped away, boots crunching over gravel as he answered in hushed, urgent tones.
Wes took the opening immediately, stepping in with clipped authority.
“We’ve got her now. Thanks for the assist, but we’ll take it from here.”
Heaton didn’t even look at him. His attention stayed on Ford, cold and absolute.
“No.”
Wes gave a sideways look. “Excuse me?”
Ford’s face darkened. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.” His voice went low and dangerous. “You’re a stranger who dragged a vulnerable girl off a cliffside. In any other town, that’s kidnapping. Here, that’s a one-way ticket to a shallow grave.”
Amusement flickered across Heaton’s face.
“Then start digging, McCrae.”
“Ford!”
Tyler’s voice sliced through the air like a siren. He scrambled into the dead space between them, face ashen.
“That was Natalie. Sasha never made it home last night. Her car’s still at the Point. She’s officially missing. We need to head back up there.”
“What?” Ford rasped.
The mention of Sasha’s name hit the driveway like a physical weight. Wes and Tyler shifted, and the hierarchy of the morning changed.
“Tyler,” Ford barked. “Truck. Now.”
Wes clapped him on the shoulder and pivoted toward the yard. Ford turned back to me, chest heaving.
“Penny, stay with her. Don’t let her out of your damn sight.”
He hesitated.
For one agonizing heartbeat, he truly looked at me.
But his eyes stalled on the fabric of Heaton’s shirt.
Then he tore his gaze away and sprinted for the truck.
Engines roared.
Seconds later, the sound faded, leaving behind a silence so profound it made my ears ring.
“Well,” Penny whispered, staring at the empty road. “That was officially the most terrifying ten minutes of my life.”
Her voice shook.
“And now Sasha’s missing, too? The Lanterns are already spinning some senior-prank-gone-wrong story, but—” She shook her head. “We were there, Maddie. That’s not what happened.”
Beside me, Heaton shifted, a cool shadow against the morning sun.
“I should go,” he said quietly, eyes tracking the road where Ford’s taillights had vanished.
Penny let out a shaky breath, her hand hovering near my shoulder but not quite touching, as if I were made of smoke.
“Inside,” she urged. “Maddie, let’s just get you inside.”
She started toward the house, expecting me to follow. Heaton was already moving for the Nova, unhurried, black shirt stirring in the morning breeze.
Then the bond pulled.
Not gently.
A sharp ache cinched through the center of my chest, sudden enough to stop me where I stood.
“Wait.”
The word was barely a whisper.
Gravel crunched under my boots as I followed him a few steps down the drive. Behind me, I felt Penny pause near the steps, her confusion a palpable weight.
I didn’t turn around.
Heaton stopped with his hand on the door handle, his back to me. His broad shoulders blocked the sun, casting me in his cold shadow.
“You’re supposed to be going inside, Madeline.”
“And you’re just leaving?”
My voice trembled. A shameful, desperate need rose in me—to reach for him, to catch the sleeve of that black utility jacket and hold on.
“What if the Lanterns come back? What if something happens?”
He finally turned his head, his profile sharp against the light.
A humorless smile touched his lips.
“They won’t.”
The answer was immediate. Certain.
“They made more of a mess than they intended last night. They’ll be too busy cleaning it up to try anything again this soon.”
The logic should have helped.
Instead, the ache in my chest pulled tighter.
“Heaton—”
His jaw shifted.
“Don’t make me explain this in your driveway,” he said, voice low and edged. “The ache is temporary. Your nervous system is throwing a tantrum because it’s the first real distance. Sit with it. Let it settle.”
But I couldn’t. My feet stayed rooted to the drive; my body screaming at me to follow the pull. I took another stumbling step forward.
His eyes narrowed with impatience.
“I have to go,” he said, softness gone. “I need to speak with my family.”
The explanation hit like cold water.
“What? Why?”
“Because last night was loud.” His eyes dropped to mine. “And my family is drawn to loud noises. Bright things.”
“They felt this?”
“They felt enough.”
His thumb tapped once against the door handle.
“I need to manage it before they manage it for me.” His voice cooled. “You don’t want them showing up on your doorstep to see what’s been keeping me so . . . occupied.”
He held my gaze, a final warning in his silver eyes.
“Stay with your friend, Madeline.”
“What,” I asked quietly, “you’re just going to leave?”
“For a day?” he said. “Try to endure it.”
Something in my chest squeezed.
“So, we’ll . . . talk tomorrow?”
Heaton stepped closer, his shadow falling over me completely.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, October. Nothing’s changed.”
Behind us, Penny finally called, “Maddie?”
Heaton’s focus flicked past my shoulder toward the porch, then returned to me, sharper now. More distant.
“Go.”
I didn’t move.
But he didn’t wait for an answer. He got into the car with smooth, easy precision, and the Nova rolled backward down the drive.
I watched the dark car disappear into the morning. Even after the forest swallowed him, I stayed there, the absence of him ringing through my body like something freshly severed.
The bond wasn’t just a tether.
It was a craving.
And as the sound of his engine faded, I felt the first real pang of withdrawal.
“Madeline?”
Penny’s voice was hesitant, pulling me back toward the porch.
“Maddie? Are you okay?”
I blinked, and the world snapped into painful focus. She stood by the front steps, arms crossed tightly, watching me with an expression that made my stomach flip.
“Okay,” she said, voice trembling. “That wasn’t just a rescue. That looked like a territorial dispute. So, what happened in those woods?”
I opened my mouth, but she lifted a hand, cutting me off.
Then she reached behind the porch railing and came up with my little white purse.
“Also,” Penny said.
She pulled the modified pistol into the light.
“I found this.”
She stared at it.
Then at me.
Her face lost what little color it had left.
“Alright,” she said, genuine fear overriding the sarcasm now. “So, let’s skip the part where you tell me you’re fine. What the hell is going on, Maddie?”
My hand went instinctively to my jacket pocket and closed around the cold, hard outline of Heaton’s knife.
I had forgotten that I was still carrying it.
“Inside,” I breathed.
Penny glanced at the ruined front entrance and made a face. “That’s not exactly inviting.”
“Back door,” I said. “Go around.”
She tightened her grip on the purse and pistol, clearly wanting to argue, but finally nodded and headed toward the side yard.
The second she disappeared around the house, I crouched by the top step, my movements stiff, and worked the knife from my pocket with numb, clumsy fingers. I slipped it beneath the loose porch board and covered it with damp leaves and dirt.
Precaution, I told myself. Paranoia. A stupid little insurance policy I would never need.
Then I stood, wiped my shaking hands on my jeans, and followed Penny inside.