“Get an Uber, duchess,” Lachlan says, relief and a smile in his voice. “I’ll meet you at Shoreview soon.”

With a deep sigh, I say goodbye and try to reconcile a world that feels like it’s turned upside down. Ethel is gone. Everything in my family will change. I’m in love with my husband.

An incredulous laugh bursts from my lips despite the tears that still cling to my lashes. I press my forehead to the soft fur between Bentley’s ears. “I’m in love with my husband, Bentley. I guess that means we have to keep him.” My eyes lift to the ceiling with a bittersweet smile. It doesn’t take much to imagine Ethel’s reveling in a final plan coming together just the way she wanted. “Hear that, you scheming hell-raiser? I’m in love with Lachlan Kane. I’m pretty sure that’s what you were after, right?”

I rise to my feet. Before I order an Uber, I head to the bathroom to splash water on my face. My flesh feels too hot with all this emotion coursing beneath my skin. But when I look at my reflection, I see the beauty of being stripped down to my core. It has nothing to do with the makeup that still clings to my eyes or the foundation that’s been washed away. It’s got everything to do with the person I see in the mirror matching the woman I feel like inside. One who doesn’t hide behind what the world wants to see. There’s no practiced smile, no facade to keep others from being inconvenienced by my emotions. I’m in pain and I look like I’m hurting. I’m in love and I look like I’m living.

I like the woman looking back at me. I think my aunt would be proud of her too.

I’m just wiping the final drops of water from my face as Bentley gives a warning bark from the living room. Maybe the Uber was closer than I realized and I missed the bell, I think. But when I pick up my phone and check the app as I start toward the living room, the Uber is still ten minutes away.

Bentley barks again as I enter the living space. And then he growls.

“What is—” I start, but then I see what it is—who it is.

Abe Midus is standing in my living room.

Predatory eyes. A hungry smile.

All at once we are hunter and prey.

I take off running for the kitchen. Something hits my legs and I smack into a lamp on my way to the floor. A lightning strike of pain blinds me when I land. My palm finds the side of my head and comes away sticky with blood. Bentley growls behind me. There’s a thud and he yelps. Something pierces my neck, sharp and inescapable before it’s pulled away.

I reach for my phone. My fingers slip across the glass when it’s kicked from my grasp. My groan is muffled by the roar of my heart as I try to pull myself across the floor. Power leeches from my muscles with every second that passes. I have just enough strength to turn on my back and breathe.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Stay awake.

The edges of my vision darken and blur.

Abe Midus stands at my feet and slides a cap onto a syringe before slipping it into his pocket. A slow smile stretches across his face. Light reflects off something clutched in his grip. A black- handled tool with a brutal silver edge. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I try to beg but my mouth won’t form the words.

Bentley squares himself over my legs, head lowered, hackles raised. His vicious growl burns through my last moments of conscious thought. Abe bends, his eyes pinned to my snarling dog.

“Hello, you.”

OceanofPDF.com

APPARITION

Lachlan

I stride through the doors of Shoreview Assisted Living and check in with the reception desk, the staff regarding me with somber smiles. When I get to Ethel’s room, Lark’s parents are already there. Damian’s hand gently caresses Nina’s back as she smooths Ethel’s silver-white waves. I scan the room but find nothing of Lark’s on the chair in the corner where she usually leaves her bag and jacket.

“Lachlan, thank you for coming.” Though Damian tries to keep his tone even, I still catch the wary notes in his voice. I can’t blame him for it either. I wish it could be different for Lark’s sake, though, at least on a day like today.

“Of course. I’m so sorry for your loss. Ethel was …” I find that my throat grows tight as I picture Ethel at the brunch when I met Lark’s family for the first time. She was so wicked and funny and sharp. So full of life. And I respected the hell out of her. Even knowing how sick she was, it seems inconceivable that she’s simply gone. “Ethel was a force of nature. I’m grateful to have known her, even for a little while.”

“Thank you.” Nina gives me a weak smile, her eyes shining. Her brow furrows. “Where’s Lark?”

“I thought she’d be here already. She was at home when she called to give me the news. She said she’d be coming straight here.”

With a glance toward the door, I pull out my phone and type a text.

Everything okay?

“Maybe it was the stress of losing Stan,” Nina says as she runs a tissue beneath her lashes and straightens her shoulders. “They were close friends for many years. Maybe it was just too much for Ethel to handle.”

Damian says something reassuring but I lose track of what it is as I pace toward the door and back again, the phone clutched in my hand. The message was delivered, but there’s no response from Lark. Something grips my guts and twists.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to Damian and Nina, willing my voice to remain steady.

I leave the room and head down the corridor toward the reception desk. I look out the sliding glass doors hoping to catch a glimpse of an Uber dropping Lark off, or her mass of blond waves catching on the breeze, or that giant feckin’ bag that weighs nearly as much as she does bouncing against her hip. But there’s nothing, just an empty sidewalk and cars that pass by on the road.

I select Lark’s number and ring it as I head back toward the room. It goes unanswered. I hang up when it gets to Lark’s voicemail.

“Has Lark contacted you?” I ask as I step back into Ethel’s room. Nina and Damian both shake their heads. My pulse quickens and I open my messages again as I hope for the dots of an incoming reply, but they don’t come.

Let me know you’re okay, duchess

My plea is as much to the universe as it is to Lark. But still there’s no response.

“Fuck.”

I can feel the tension erupt in the room like a malevolent phantom. Damian takes a step closer. “What’s wrong? Is Lark all right?”

“I don’t know, she hasn’t responded. She should have been here by now. Even with waiting for an Uber she was still closer than me.”

I’m about to call her a second time when my phone rings in my hand, but my momentary relief is cut short when I see Conor’s name on the screen and not Lark’s.

“Is Lark with you?” I ask by way of greeting.

“No, man. Sorry,” he replies with confusion in his voice. “But I’ve got something from Stan’s videos. Paranoid old fucker had everything encrypted and I just got past it about ten minutes ago. Sending you a screenshot now.”

I pull the phone from my ear and place the call on speaker as I wait for Conor’s text to come through. When it does, I see an image of a man standing over Stan’s body. His features are obscured by the angle of the camera and the ball cap he wears, the brim pulled low. He clutches a weapon in his hand, not a normal knife but something small and irregularly shaped. Something familiar.

“Can you—”

“Already on it, bro.”

A second text comes in from Conor, this time a zoomed-in image of the tool. The man’s palm covers most of the black handle, but not the ring of gold that attaches the sharp head of the edge beveller. I can see the brand name—WUTA—stamped on the stainless steel.