Page 6 of Don’t Let Him In

Seconds tick by. I shift on my feet. Waiting, dreading, praying a response will come before⁠—

Message failed to send.

I stare at it for a beat, unblinking.

Well.

I swallow hard. Guess I’m going in.

My gaze abandons the screen, drifting toward the dark, gaping entrance. Unease creeps up my spine as I step forward, slower now, more careful. Gravel crunches under my boots. I ease inside, every part of me tensing. There’s no music, which is to be expected, but it’s too quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Even the whirr of animatronics is absent.

Something about it prickles at my nerves.

White cloth ghosts hang from the branches overhead, twisting violently in the wind, tangling and snapping back on themselves. I watch them a second too long before my boot catches on a thick black cord snaking across the walkway, jerking me forward.

Fuck.

My ankles flare as I straighten, a clipped breath leaving me as I smoothen the front of my shirt with the backs of my hands, wishing I had pockets to stash my things in. Instead, I grip them tighter, the ridged edge of my car keys digging into my palm.

"Hello?” I call out, slowing beside a pair of towering clown animatronics that loom on either side of the path, their painted grins boxing me in beneath their ghastly stares. “Dax, you here?”

I falter, my pulse hammering in my throat.

Then I force another step forward. Pause again.

A brisk gust barrels through the trees, snapping branches hard enough to make me flinch. The howling almost sounds like whispers. I stop, listening. No. It’s just the wind, I tell myself. Even though it didn’t sound like it.

Thoughts pile in fast, one over the other, each one stealing a bit more air from my lungs. Goosebumps prickle along my arms and neck as I edge a foot back, my gaze locked on the dense trees, the urge to turn for the Jeep tightening in my chest.

Fool that I am, I stay rooted for a fraction of a second, picturing Dax tangled in a mess of cords just a little further down the trail. Or worse, someone dragging him into the woods, a hand locked around his throat.

My stomach lurches.

Breathe, Tatum. Just breathe.

I start to step back again, already turning toward the open lot when the leaves rustle. Softer this time. Wait…it’s not wind. It’s their voices.

Human voices.

I freeze.

Dread settles low in my stomach, spreading upward until it clamps tight around my throat. I squint through the branches, holding my breath.

The voice comes again, clearer now. Familiar.

Dax.

Oh, God.

My brows pull tight, my heart stuttering as the worse possibilities flood my mind. He’s been dragged out there. Tied up. Hurt.

I need to call for help. I need—I need⁠—

Another voice interjects. Distinctly feminine.

She laughs, the sound carrying through the trees, light and airy, not sinister at all. It occurs to me then, hitting me all at once.

Dax isn’t alone. He’s with another woman.