Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
His stalker was getting more and more desperate. More cunning.
This was a sign that this sick game was no longer confined to twisted text messages and distant threats. This was as bold as it could get.
Miles stood up. His hands were steady as he rolled the tiny note open. “What’s it say?”
He read it to himself first. I thought I heard something from behind the couch. I swiveled around, ready to fight, but it must have been my imagination. There was nothing there. Only a dreadful and empty silence now, made more ominous by the streaks of blood all across the room.
“What is it?” I repeated myself. Every second that passed added a boulder to my growing mountain of anxiety.
“I don’t think—”
“Just read it.” The anxiousness made me snappy. I understood he was trying to protect me but I couldn’t be kept out of this, no matter how hard he tried.
“It says ‘D is for dove, D is for death, D is for… D is for Dylan. There won’t be any peace or love until the dove is dead.’”
My stomach dropped to the ground. “I’m assuming they aren’t talking about that particular dove being dead.”
“No,” Miles said, shaking his head. “No, they aren’t.” For the first time since this ordeal started, I noticed a tremor in his hands. Anger twisted his expression—a deep fury that any other wolf could pick up on. Body language spoke louder than words to us wolves, and the way his nose twitched upward and his lips followed suit made me know he wanted to tear this person’s throat out.
“This is the first direct threat against you. It makes my blood boil to see how bold this lunatic has become.”
“Does the timing of this have something to do with who they are? Do you think they know what happened between us tonight somehow? Or that we went to Hunter for help?”
“There’s no way. No one else has been in here except you and Emmy.”
“Then how did that dove get in here?”
Miles looked down at the dead bird. He shook his head. His shoulders slumped. The bloody note held carefully at the edge of his fingertips, as though he’d contract an illness simply from holding it. “I… I don’t know.”
“Do you have a doorbell camera?”
“Yeah, and it didn’t go off. I would have gotten an alert on my phone if it picked up movement.”
“Any cameras anywhere else?”
He pointed behind him, down another hall. “The yard, but that also didn’t go off.”
“Let me see.” I held my hand out for his phone. He supplied it, unlocking it as he handed it over. The security camera app was on his home screen. I tapped it and scrubbed through the last thirty minutes of both angles.
Nothing.
I looked back down at the dove. It appeared so peaceful in its death, even covered in blood. I crouched down. Hunting for some kind of clue. Anything. That’s when I spotted a metallic glint in the bird’s chest. I leaned a little closer. It was a bullet. But it was the tip of the bullet, and there had been no entry wound on the other side.
“Check this out,” I said. “Someone put that bullet in its chest. They didn’t shoot it.”
Miles crouched next to me. He made a sound. Moved to touch it. The second his fingers grazed the bullet, I heard a loud hiss from the touch and a surprised curse from my side.
“It’s silver,” Miles said even though I already knew.
That drove the threat home even further. It was a clear message. A single silver bullet to the heart or head would instantly kill me. No regenerating from that. Curtains down. Lights out.
My chest tightened, my lungs constricting. I tried taking in a deep breath but the oxygen wouldn’t flow. I couldn’t breathe. I sucked in short, raggedy puffs of air, trying to stave off the panic attack. But my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Alarm bells rang louder than before. The edges of my vision began to blur and darken.
A hand between my shoulders brought a semblance of calm, although my anxiety continued to drive the train. He moved to gently massage the back of my neck. It was the spot that could both turn me on and calm me down.
Tonight, it was very effective at doing the latter.
The black borders started to fade and my breathing began to regulate. This wasn’t ideal, and I wasn’t happy about being a target for this person who clearly had some kind of magic and vendetta against me, but at least in this moment, I was safe.
Miles rubbed the back of my head. The anger that had flared in his gaze was replaced with concern. “Go and get in the shower. I’m going to clean up what I can and then get in with you.”