Page 105 of Beneath the Surface

Why didn’t she feel safe now?

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but it would be short lived.

The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence like a gunshot.

Quinn’s eyes flew open, her heart already racing before her conscious mind had fully processed what she’d heard. For a moment, she lay frozen in bed, every muscle locked tight, wondering if she’d dreamed it.

The sound had been sharp. Crystalline. Like a window breaking, but muffled, distant. From outside? The garage?

Then she heard Nathan’s voice, low and sharp, carrying from down the hall. “Stay inside. Lock your door.”

The command in his tone made Quinn’s stomach drop. This wasn’t a raccoon knocking over trash cans. This was serious.

Footsteps thundering across the floors—Nathan moving fast, his boots heavy on the hardwood.

The front door opening with a rush of cool night air that Quinn could feel even from a distance, carrying the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves.

Then silence.

Quinn got out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood with a soft slap. Her hands were shaking—fine tremors that made her fingers twitch. What was happening?

She moved to her bedroom window, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, in her temples, in her fingertips. The old floorboards creaked under her weight—sounds she’d known her whole life but now seemed deafening.

Quinn reached the window and pulled back the lace curtain just enough to see, the fabric rough and dusty against her palm.

The yard was dark. Too dark.

The motion sensor lights that should have been triggered—that Nathan had tested just hours ago—weren’t on. The sodium-yellow glow that usually washed across the driveway and side yard was absent, leaving everything in shadow.

Quinn’s breath fogged the cold windowpane as she pressed closer, straining to see.

Movement near the garage. A shadow that didn’t belong—too solid, too deliberate to be anything natural. Someone was out there.

Nathan’s silhouette appeared, moving toward it, weapon drawn. Even from this distance, Quinn could see the tension in his shoulders, the caution in his movements as he cleared corners, checked sight lines.

Quinn’s breath caught in her chest.

She should call 911. Should call Dax. Should do something other than stand here frozen like a useless bystander.

But she couldn’t move. Could only watch as Nathan disappeared around the side of the garage, swallowed by the darkness.

Watching.

Waiting.

The night was silent.

Too silent.

No crickets. No wind rustling the trees. Even the ambient hum of the neighborhood—distant traffic, humming power lines, the white noise of civilization—seemed to have been sucked away, leaving only a vacuum of quiet that pressed against Quinn’s eardrums.

And then…nothing.

No gunshots. No sounds of struggle. No shouts or crashes or any indication of what was happening in the dark.

Just...silence.

Quinn waited for Nathan to reappear. For him to come back around the corner and wave at her window, give her the all-clear signal. For him to come back and say everything was fine, just a raccoon or a branch breaking or something harmless.