Page 147 of Hymns of the Broken

“All right, who pissed off the wrong psycho this time?” Micah says, plugging in cords with the kind of calm that makes me want to scream.

Jasper tosses him the phone. “Start with the number. Track it, trace it, do whatever it takes.”

Silas is on the phone across the room, rattling off names and addresses to people I’m pretty sure don’t exist outside his shady little black book.

Micah’s fingers fly over the keyboard, screens lighting up. “Gimme ten minutes.”

I pace, running my hand through my hair, glancing at Jasper. “We’re not waiting around if he finds a name, right? You want to split up and check the neighborhood?”

Jasper’s jaw flexes, murder in his eyes. “Nobody leaves this house until we know who’s out there. I’m not risking her.”

I bristle, but he’s right. I bite back whatever I was about to say and drop onto the edge of the couch, foot bouncing a mile a minute.

Micah’s screen blinks, code flying. “Numbers’ pinging off burner towers, but I’m good. I’ll get an IP, maybe a location if they’re dumb.”

Jasper glances at me, voice lower now. “How’s Sawyer?”

I swallow hard. “She’s scared, man. But she’s tougher than she looks.” I force a smile, but it feels like glass in my throat. “I’ll go check on her after. You know she’ll just come looking for us if we’re gone too long.”

Silas hangs up, nods at both of us. “We’ll find whoever’s doing this. You keep her close. Let us handle the rest.”

Micah’s eyes dart up from the screen, a little wild, a little amused. “And hey, if you two break anything expensive while playing hero, you’re fixing it. Or you’re both buying me a new rig.”

I flip him off, but it breaks the tension just enough to breathe again. Still, the rage is there, burning in my gut, promising hell if anyone eventhinksabout touching Sawyer.

Jasper’s already moving toward the hall. “Let’s go. I want eyes on her. Now.”

I’m right behind him, ready for whatever comes next. Whoever is out there, they picked the wrong people to fuck with.

SAWYER

I close the bathroom door behind me, the quiet barely muffling the beating in my chest. My hands won’t stop shaking. All those pictures—so many moments I thought weresafe, private, justours now nothing but ammunition for whoever’s watching.

Macee sits on the edge of the bathtub, knees pulled up, concern written all over her face. She doesn’t hug me. She waits; she’s the kind of friend who knows when you need space to breathe.

I sit beside her, phone still clutched like a lifeline, blinking hard. “Someone’s been following me, Mace, for weeks. I—I thought I was just being paranoid. I kept seeing shadows, reflections. I even saw someone at the haunted house. In a mask.”

Macee’s jaw sets, eyes fierce. “You should’ve told me.”

A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. “I thought I was losing my mind. And then I got these.” I show her the photos, my thumb trembling as I scroll. Each one lands heavier than the last.

She looks through them, her lips pressed tight. By the end, her hands are shaking too.

“Jasper, Riot, and Silas are losing it out there,” I whisper, voice barely more than a breath. “Micah’s trying to trace the number. But what if it’s someone I know? Someoneclose?”

Macee looks at me worried. “Do you think it could be Blake? I never paid attention to what he did for work.”

I shake my head. “He was a real estate agent for his family’s company. He’s not smart enough for this. There’s no way.” I think. “Maybe it’s a crazy, obsessed fan? Or maybe it’s Lexie retaliating after I publicly humiliated her? I’m going crazy trying to think of anybody it could be.”

Macee doesn’t answer at first. She takes my hand, squeezes hard, like she can will the panic out of me. “You’re not crazy, Sawyer. And you’re not alone. I’m not letting you out of my sight, okay? I don’t care if I have to sleep on the floor. We’re in this together.”

The words steady me a little. But the fear is still there, cold and gnawing. “I’m scared, Mace. I don’t want to lose them. Or you.”

She pullsme into a fierce hug, all nails and perfume and safety. “You’re not losing any of us. Never. And you? You’re stronger than you think, Sawyer Morrigan. You’ve survived so many things—you’ll survive this, too.”

There’s a knock at the door—Riot’s voice, low and careful. “Hey, Hellcat? We need you. Something’s happening.”

Macee stands first, hand never leaving mine. “We’ve got you,” she whispers, then opens the door. Riot stands in the hall, worry lines cutting deep into his usually playful face.