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I didn’t really have any use for a potholder, and I couldn’t even remember why I’d started making one in the first place. Probably because I wasn’t very creative when it came to this kind of thing. I just enjoyed keeping my hands busy.

I glanced up at the clock, feeling antsy for some reason. Brooks said they’d be back in a few hours, so there was still a long way to go.

For a while, I let the TV play and worked on the potholder. But something didn’t feel right. It gnawed at the back of my mind, an unsettling sensation that something was wrong.

And then I realized what it was.

It was too quiet. Everything in me went on high alert as I tried to figure out in what way it was quiet, because there wasn’t a sudden absence of sound. But something had stopped making noise.

I set down my knitting needles, slowly rising from the couch. The sound of cicadas was loud in the silence, and I realized that the hum of the AC unit had been a buffer to that. It wasn’t going now.

Quietly, I made my way to the hall, checked the front door to make sure it was still shut and locked, then padded down to the kitchen on the balls of my feet, trying not to make noise.

I was sure the kitchen light had been on. I’d left it on. And the little light over the oven was always on—except for now. There was no low-sounding thrum from the fridge, and the dishwasher I’d started up forty minutes ago wasn’t whirring.

The power had gone out? I glanced out the window, at the cloudless blue sky. How?

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I’d spent a lifetime trusting my gut instincts, and they were telling me that something wasn’t right.

Should I call Court? Was this something to bother him at work with? Actually, if he jerked off at work then I could definitely bother him with this. Besides, I didn’t have Brooks’ or Vincent’s numbers.

Yeah, I’d call Court. It could be nothing, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. But the phone he’d given me was upstairs.

I’d—

A creak sounded behind me, and when I whirled around, expecting Brooks or Vincent, a jolt of panic rocketed through me when a man I’d never seen before stood there.

Fear shot through me as I froze, staring at the young guy in front of me. He barely looked twenty, but he was tall and blocking the only fucking exit.

“Shit,” he hissed before lunging at me.

I grabbed the pan on the stove and swung it at his head, hitting him hard but not stopping him from crashing into me, knocking me back into the counter. All the air whooshed from my lungs at the impact, and I dropped the pan to claw at his face, trying to push him off me, but he was so much bigger than me.

He punched me in the face, my cheek exploding in pain as I fell back. I was so dazed that I barely registered the sharp sting in my neck.

I kicked him between the legs and he drove his fist into my stomach in response. I tried to catch myself on the counter, but my head was spinning and my grip was so weak that my fingers slid right off and I dropped to the ground.

Groaning, I realized far too late that the sharp sting I’d felt was him injecting me with something.

All my limbs became heavy, and I was dragged into unconsciousness.

TWENTY-EIGHT

“Can you fucking help me with this?” I growled at Cade, who’d stopped to take a swig from his water bottle. He rolled his eyes, put his water down, then picked up the other end of the beam, helping me shove it into place.

It was hot today, the sun relentless and the humidity just as brutal. But I was working twice as fast because I just wanted to finish this project and then get home to Whitney.

I couldn’t even put into words how perfect everything was with her. This past week had been fucking incredible, and the fact that she’d come back that day…that she hadn’t been able to leave me in the end…I knew she loved me. I knew it. She just couldn’t say it. But it was shining in her eyes whenever she looked at me.

Every second that drew closer to the day we went to Thorne’s estate, a deep dread built. I didn’t want her going in there anymore. I didn’t want her to be in any kind of danger. It made me sick, thinking about anything happening to her, and I wanted to call it off, to tell the guys we should just blow it up like we originally planned, subtlety be damned.

“This kind of work is for the newbies,” Cade complained. “Where the fuck is Kyle today?”

I wiped sweat from my brow. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been here for like…two days now. What’s up with that?”

“I already told Frank he should get rid of him. Frank’s too fucking soft and it’s gonna get him in trouble.”

My phone started vibrating in my pocket, and hopeful it might be Whitney, I pulled it out.