I blame my interrupted sleep on the culprit of soreness between my thighs, who's sleeping next to me, naked.

His toned body beckons me, tempting me to touch and kiss every inch. I contemplate doing that, but he needs to rest.

My fingers wrap around the chain Bast gave me, and tenderness floods my insides as I watch him for a few instants. I cover him with the sheet and grab my phone from the nightstand. It's a little after six a.m., but I feel weirdly energized. Carefully, I slip out of bed and pad to the en suite to freshen up and get dressed.

When I finish putting on my sweats, the screen of my phone lights up. Who'd be texting me this early? An ugly feeling hits me as I take the cell from the vanity and unlock it.

Sadie: Rise and shine.

Sadie: It's a beautiful day outside.

Sadie: Hurry, I'm waiting.

Sadie: Ten…

My heart chills. I stare at the texts, and beads of cold sweat form on the back of my neck.

The phone comes alive once more.

Sadie: Nine… I've waited long enough. Don't make me waste more time.

It's a joke. A sick, twisted joke. Except only the person who killed Sadie can have her phone, and they're here. They found us.

I step out of the bathroom and glance at Bast. Then I forward the texts to his dad and march down the hallway to the foyer.

I need to keep them away from Sebastian so he can get into the car and drive to get help. I need him to be safe. As I walk out of the house and stand on the porch, it hits me I have no clue where the nearest town is.

I have no clue where the person who wants me dead is.

Until the next message.

Sadie: Eight. Walk past the fire pit to the oak tree.

Clutching my phone, I advance toward the place where Bast and I spent one of the best evenings of my life. The memories ground me, and my breaths become less shallow.

But my legs quiver. My hands sweat. I should've grabbed a knife. Something to defend myself, but now it's too late.

The morning is still and gray. Each step of mine thuds in the quiet, silencing the irregular beats of my heart.

I halt by the oak tree and look at the house over my shoulder. If Bast wakes up, wondering where I am, he'll see me. He'll have time to call the police.

“Let him sleep,” a familiar voice whispers.

A mix of dread and incredulity seeps into my pores, hindering my ability to move.

Blanche steps from behind the thick trunk of an oak tree. A grin stretches her thin lips, but her stare is cold and unblinking. “Good morning, Tara.”

“What…”

All I can manage is a breathless whisper. Blanche grins wider as if the fear slithering through me gave her immense satisfaction.

“Me. Who would've thought? In fact, they still think it's the weird guy who doesn't speak. Only that he does. He's just not allowed to. Do you know where the police are? At my house. They'll find Maverick in the basement, but he'll say nothing. Because if he speaks, you'll die. And he knows I always keep my promises, unlike his father."

Her words don't make sense. I blink and swallow, forcing myself to think.

"Why?" I squeeze out the word, taking in the sharp angles of Blanche's face and moving my gaze down to her long, shapeless gray dress. She always looked tired and sad, and I pitied her for being poor, working so hard, and having no help. How could I not see who she really was?

"He never loved me." She shrugs, her expression going vacuous. "But I got pregnant, so he stayed. But then your mother moved in next door. He used to watch his stupid butterflies, but then he only watched her." Blanche barks out a hoarse laugh. "She stole everything I had."

I ignore the venom dripping from her words and step forward. "No. She loved my father. She wanted nothing to do with Blake. It wasn't her fault."

"I don't care. Justice was served when she died. Do you know why? The good," Blanche screws her face up in disgust, "kind-hearted Inger who helped mistreated women  and abandoned kids, learned that the love of her life did bad things."

A veil of moisture blankets my eyes. Mom couldn't take what my dad did. That's why she left us.

I wipe my tears with my shaky hand. "How did you know?"

"Watching. Listening. We're neighbors, remember? Vincent has always been careful, but then he brought girls home. And my son stared like his father did. Because she was blonde and pretty like the friend he adores. Like you. And he wanted to save her."

Blanche starts pacing in circles, shuffling her feet. "He helped her escape. She drove your maid's car. And he brought it back. He thought I wouldn't know, but I see everything. He's mine. He's the man who will stay with me forever." She halts and tosses a venomous glare my way. "No woods are dense enough to hide. It took me time to find her, but I did. And then you go and show him your pretty friend. You wanted my son to leave me. But I won."

Tears leave scorching trails down my cheeks. My body shakes from desperation and rage. Two girls died because of Blanche's delusions. My friend died because of crossing paths with the evil personified I unknowingly introduced her to.

I tighten my grip on my phone. I need to make her go on talking because it'll take the police time to get here. "You're sick. That girl and Sadie were innocent."

Blanche shoves her hands in the pockets of her dress. "But you're your mother's daughter. The daughter of a pretty homewrecker. You need to feel what I felt when Blake left and live with it. Because you love the pretty boy too, don't you?"

Run.

I need to run back to the house and warn Bast, but my body feels leaden.

"Tara!"

Bast's voice rings out, shattering the early morning stillness.

"See?" Blanche smirks. "He wants to save you. But I won't let him."

I whip around in time to see Sebastian running across the yard. When he reaches the fire pit, he comes to an abrupt stop, wide-eyed.

My gaze darts to Blanche and rests on the gun in her hands. Her finger is on the trigger. The muzzle points at me accusingly, and my heart patters a sickly rhythm.

"Don't." I choke. "I did nothing."

The crackling of leaves behind me alerts me of Bast’s movements. He draws up to me and grips my elbow.

"Run to the house," he whispers. "The police are on their way."

Blanche tips her chin up. Her mouth presses into a bloodless line.

Something clicks.

Bast shoves me hard.  My arms flail, and my knees hit the damp ground.

A sharp pop strikes my eardrums.
I yelp and jerk back, lifting my eyes to Blanche. She's gripping the gun, staring past me.

"Bast." I scramble to my feet and turn, scouring my surroundings.

His pale face is the first thing I see.

His crimson-stained hand clutching the left side of his chest is the second.

The woods come alive. Figures in camouflage clothing emerge from behind the trees.

A man behind Blanche lifts a finger to his lips.

I inhale a stuttery breath and rush to Sebastian.

"Bast."

I sob as several weapons fire in sync.