Page 29 of Oliver (The Golden Team #7)

Emery

I t was just after midnight when I woke up.

Not because of a nightmare.

Because of the silence.

Oliver’s arm was wrapped around me, his breathing steady. Olly was curled up on the bed in the next room, still clutching the new stuffed animal he picked out at the zoo. Everything was calm. Safe. Still.

So why was my skin crawling?

I slid out of bed carefully and tiptoed into the hallway. The house was dark, moonlight slanting in through the windows. I didn’t hear anything. Didn’t see anything.

But I felt something.

I moved toward the front door and froze.

The mailbox was open.

I hadn’t left it that way.

I stepped outside barefoot, the wooden porch creaking beneath me, and peeked inside. A single envelope sat there. No address. No stamp.

Just my name.

Handwritten. In red ink.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared.

“Emery?”

I jumped. Oliver was behind me, shirtless and barefoot, sleep still clinging to him. His hand went to my lower back immediately. “What’s going on?”

I pointed to the mailbox.

He picked up the envelope, scanned the front, then flipped it open. His eyes moved quickly over the note inside.

His jaw tightened.

“What does it say?” I asked.

He hesitated.

“Oliver.”

He handed it to me silently. I took it with shaking hands and read:

You should’ve stayed in the water. Land is dangerous.

There was no signature. No return address. Just those words—and a chill so deep it felt like ice in my spine.