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“You’re safe.”

“No, I’m not,” I choke out, tears already running down my face. My throat is raw.

He doesn’t disagree with me, only pulls me to him.

I can’t push away, can’t do anything except relive the horror of Candice’s death as I cry. One of the monsters responsible has me cradled in his arms, and I should fight him, claw his eyes out, do anything other than give up. But that’s exactly what I do. I melt into him and let go, my body racked with sobs as I let it out.

Juno held me like this. A long time ago. It seems like an entire lifetime ago. I’d been in med school, the other candidates giving me hell because of my age, and some because of my gender. It had been a rough few months of my first semester. That’s when Juno showed up at my apartment, waiting for me as I dragged myself home from the library at almost midnight.

“What are you doing here?” I’m so bewildered I drop my keys. She lives states away, but here she is on my front stoop in her business clothes as if she ran out of one of her constituent meetings.

“Let’s go inside.” She tries to smile but her teeth don’t show. It’s the fake smile, the one she uses when she’s campaigning. It won her a city council seat, then the mayoral election. But it gets no points from me.

I stare at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Come on.”

I hear the wobble in her voice, and my stomach drops. “Tell me.”

“Please, Georgia. Inside.” She takes my keys and unlocks my door with shaking hands.

“Sit down.” She walks to my couch and sits.

“Is it Mom? Dad?” I swallow hard and drop my backpack, then plop next to her. “Just tell me.”

She takes my hands in hers. “It’s Dad.”

The bridge of my nose stings, and I force myself to ask, “What happened?”

She tells me. He’d been cleaning out the rain gutters along the roof. The ladder slipped. That was all it took. One accident. One misplaced foot or errant reach for more—it’s enough to give death an opening.

Candice, though, her death wasn’t some twist of fate, an unhappy accident. It was a brutal killing, the taking of an innocent life. What I feel isn’t just grief, the shock of loss. It’s horror. It’s something darker and deeper—rage. Impotent rage that morphs into guilt and then back again. I should’ve done something. I should’ve helped her.

“Shhh.” Valen strokes my hair. “It’s over. Only a nightmare.”

“It’s not.” My chest stutters as more tears try to escape. “It’s not a nightmare. It’s real.” I look up at him, at his shining eyes in the dim light. “You’rereal.”

He cups my cheek. “I won’t hurt you, Georgia.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.” He glances at my mouth, one of his hands cupping the nape of my neck. “But it’s the truth.”

He shouldn’t be here. Not in my bedroom like this. I’m vulnerable. He’s dangerous. My emotions are running too high for me to think straight. Grief and terror, loneliness and regret. “Why did you come?”

“I heard you scream.”

“That’s not why.” I shake my head, more tears falling along my cheeks. “Tell me the truth.”

“I already told you.” He uses his thumb to swipe them away. “Your blood calls to mine,” he whispers.

“I don’t know what that means.”

He drops his palm to my chest, pressing it over my heart.

My breath hitches.

“This.” He presses against me, his touch warm through my thin shirt. “This calls to me. I feel it as if it’s my own.”