Page 105 of Shadows of Obsession

My voice echoed through the silent house as I nudged the front door open with my foot, arms laden with rustling grocery bags. The plastic handles bit into my fingers from the weight, I'd grabbed everything in one trip because going back out to the Jeep felt like a waste of time when I could be with Anna instead.

I made my way to the kitchen, the bags crinkling loudly in the quiet, and dropped them onto the table. I should have asked her to help, but she was so focused on that tack room.

After unloading the last of the groceries, a truly impressive haul for a cookout that probably should've taken two trips, I paused in the kitchen doorway, straining my ears for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

No water running upstairs. No footsteps. No music playing from her phone like there usually was when she worked. Just... silence.

Maybe she's still in the barn? I frowned, and an uneasy feeling began to prickle at the back of my neck, that sixth sense honed by years in combat zones that whisperedsomething's wrong.

I climbed the stairs, my boots thudding softly on the worn wooden steps, the sound seeming too loud in the quiet house. I poked my head into her bedroom, but the neatly made bed and tidy surfaces offered no clues to Anna's whereabouts. The room still smelled like her, that warm mix of vanilla and honey from whatever lotion she used, but it was empty.

My brows knit together as I descended the stairs, taking them two at a time now, and strode out toward the barn. The afternoon sun hitme like a wall of heat, making me squint as I crossed the yard, hoping to find her elbow-deep in chores as usual.

But the barn stood quiet and empty. The horses nickered softly in their stalls at my appearance, hopeful for treats or attention. Choco's head popped over his stall door, ears pricked forward, but no Anna.

Where is she?My heart began to beat faster, that unease sharpening into something more urgent. I scanned the ranch, looking toward the training rings, the pastures, anywhere she might've wandered. Just as I was about to head toward Connor's place to check the other buildings, Denny's booming voice rang out from one of the training rings.

"You looking for Anna?"

I spun around, relief flooding through me so fast it made me dizzy. I nodded eagerly at the ranch hand, already moving in his direction.

Denny hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the road. "Her truck drove by 'bout forty minutes ago. Headed out toward your place or the back fields."

Her truck? Why would she—

"Thanks, Denny," I called, already turning back toward the house.

With a quick wave, I hurried across the yard, my unease growing with every step. As I rounded the corner of Connor's house, the glaring absence of Anna's truck out front hit me like a punch to the gut.

How did I miss that?

I'd been so focused on getting the groceries inside, so caught up in hurrying back to her, that I hadn't even noticed her truck was gone. The empty space where it should've been parked suddenly felt ominous. Wrong.She went to my place? Why wouldn't she wait for me?

Fishing my phone from my pocket with fumbling fingers, I punched in her number. My thumb hovered over her contact photo, a candid shot I'd taken of her laughing with Choco, before I pressed call.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Come on, baby. Pick up.

Four rings. Five.

Then her voicemail kicked in, her cheerful voice spilling through the speaker. The sound of it, so normal, so Anna, made my chesttighten with a kind of anxiety I couldn't name but felt deep in my bones.

"Anna, it's me. Call me back as soon as you get this," I said, trying to keep the worry from bleeding into my voice, and failing miserably.

Back in the kitchen, I fired off a quick text asking where she was before turning my attention to the groceries. My hands moved automatically, muscle memory taking over while my mind spun through possibilities. Maybe she wanted to surprise me at the cabin. Maybe she went to start setting up there instead.

But even as I thought it, it didn't feel right. She would've told me. Texted. Left a note. Something.

As I opened the fridge, a folded piece of paper held in place by a magnet caught my eye.

There. See? A note.

Relief washed through me as I plucked it from the door, expecting a cute message or a reminder about something we needed for tonight, maybe a teasing comment about me rushing through the shopping.

But as I unfolded it and scanned the first few lines, the words blurred.

A wave of dizziness hit me like a physical blow, making the kitchen tilt sickeningly. I gripped the counter with my free hand, knuckles whitening as my heart constricted painfully in my chest.No, this can't be—