Like a devil marked by the pack, John Stovall's name alone carried pressure that settled deep in the bones. Even silence felt heavier whenever his presence was involved. People lowered their voices without understanding why.
"You." He ended the call on a single word, cold and final.
A moment later, my phone lit up again.
Lucksville Lane 221, four o'clock. Letty, be there or be square.
I stared at the message again and again. My grip on the phone tightened as unease rose inside me, sharp and restless, like instincts warning me to turn back.
I forced myself to stay calm. I had fallen into his patterns before, and I refused to let it happen again. If I could not avoid John, then I would find a way to make him step back on his own.
Bzzzzzzttt.
My phone rang again.
Ashton.
I answered.
His voice came through cold and steady, carrying that quiet authority that always made the air feel heavier. "Get ready. You're coming with me to a gathering later."
