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But the shadows were empty now.

He was gone.

But he’d left enough behind.

And suddenly, I wasn’t just part of this anymore.

I was thecenterof it.

42

Cyclone

Ihit the gravel drive doing forty.

The second I saw Jude standing at the edge of the trees, barefoot in the wet grass, with River hovering behind her like a damn shadow—I slammed the truck into park and was out before the engine stopped rattling.

“Jude.”

She turned slowly.

Her eyes met mine—and they were calm.

Not empty.

Not panicked.

Focused.

That scared me more than anything.

I jogged to her, my boots kicking up wet sand, and stopped just short of pulling her straight into my arms.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

Because her hand was clenched at her side, tight around something I couldn’t see.

And her voice was steady when she said, “He left a message.”

My stomach dropped.

River handed me a glove. “Didn’t touch it. She found it under that rock.”

I crouched and lifted the paper carefully.

Three words.

You remember me.

My jaw locked.

I read it again. And again. Just to make sure I wasn’t missing something.

“Does it mean anything to you?” River asked.

“Not yet,” I said. Then I looked at her. “But it means something toyou.”