Page 259 of The Devil's Thorn

And yet here I was, sitting on the edge of my couch like the world had tilted off its axis and no one was bothering to explain why.

The worst part?

That gnawing sensation in the back of my mind. The one that whispered:Maybe you’re the only one not in on the truth.The only one still waiting for a call that was never going to come.

I stood abruptly, the blanket I had draped around my shoulders falling to the floor like it no longer mattered. I couldn’t sit still any longer. Couldn’t keep staring at the phone like it was going to suddenly blink to life with the truth.

If Rafael wouldn’t talk to me… If he was just going to disappear… Then I’d go to the one person whoalwaysanswered.

Or used to. Anna.

She had to know something. Maybe she’d gotten sick. Maybe something had happened. Maybe—God, I don’t know—but whatever it was, I was going to find out. Because if she didn’t open that door, I was going to break it down myself.

I grabbed my jacket, barely noticing how my fingers trembled as I shoved my arms through the sleeves. The zipper clinked when I pulled it up, too loud in the silence of my apartment. I didn’t bother with my bag, my phone clenched in my hand like I expected it to buzz the second I left. It didn’t.

Of course it didn’t.

The elevator ride down was slow. Too slow. The kind of descent that makes you feel like the walls are breathing around you, and all you can do is wait.

I leaned my head back against the cool metal wall and closed my eyes for a second. But my mind wouldn’t shut up.

I tried not to think about why Rafael was avoiding me. I tried not to think about the look in Anna’s eyes the last time I saw her. That quiet smile. That strange stillness. I tried not to think about the shift that happened after we returned from Italy—like the air itself had changed.

But trying didn’t matter anymore. Because everything in me was screaming that something was wrong. Deeply,violentlywrong.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out, heading for the garage like I was chasing answers down a hallway full of locked doors.

My boots echoed off the concrete as I approached my car. The remote beeped and the engine purred to life, but even that sound didn’t settle me.

I climbed in, shoved the key in the ignition, and sat there for a second with my hand on the steering wheel.

Then I hitCall.

Anna’s name flashed across the screen. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Straight to voicemail. No.

No, Iwasn’tdoing this again.

I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the garage, the tires screeching softly as I turned onto the road. The city lights blurred past the windshield, but my eyes stayed locked forward.

The drive felt longer than it should’ve. Every red light dragged. Every car in front of me moved like it had all the time in the world.

I tried calling her again. Still nothing. Not even a flicker of a voicemail change. Not even a damntext.

My grip on the wheel tightened as I turned into her street, my knuckles going white. She always answered.

She alwaysanswered.

I parked across from her building, cut the engine, and stared at the windows above like I could will her into knowing I was there.

Maybe she was inside. Maybe she was fine. Maybe she was just scared. Or sick. Or?—

I got out and slammed the door before my thoughts spiraled further.

The lobby door clicked open under my hand, and I took the stairs two at a time. Her floor smelled like lemon polish and dust, same as always, but tonight it felt… sterile. Empty.

I reached her door. Raised my fist and knocked once. Then again, louder. “Anna?”

I waited. Nothing.