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Axel

I t was close to midnight when my phone buzzed.

Lark was asleep, curled up in my bed, tangled in the blanket like a human burrito. I didn’t want to wake her, so I slipped into the living room, the floor creaking under my feet as I checked the message.

Unknown Number:

Tell Fraiser he was right. They have Greg Bishop.

And be careful.

—M

No punctuation. No context. But the initials hit me like a shot to the ribs.

Marley.

My first instinct was to text back. My second was to wake Lark. I did neither.

Instead, I stared at the message and felt the shift in the air—like pressure dropping before a storm.

I didn’t know what Fraiser had been right about. And I didn’t know what Marley meant by be careful .

But I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t over.

Whatever she was mixed up in... it had just brushed against our lives.

And it wasn’t done with us yet. I needed to get in touch with Fraiser. I wondered if he was back from Nebraska yet.