And Jason wanted Ethan dead.

I was entirely alone in this house.

Suddenly, I felt a slight, warm pressure against my palm.

I froze, my breath catching.

I looked down at our joined hands.

Ethan’s fingers were still, but the pressure had been unmistakable.

I waited, holding my breath, wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me in the dark.

Then, his index finger twitched.

It wasn’t a random, involuntary spasm.

It felt deliberate, like he was trying to squeeze my hand.

“Ethan?” I whispered, leaning closer to his face.

His eyelids fluttered, the dark lashes twitching against his pale skin.

The steady beep of the heart monitor began to quicken.

The screen showed his heart rate climbing from sixty to seventy-five, then eighty.

“Can you hear me?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

His hand tightened around mine again.

It was a weak grip, but it was real.

He was trying to hold on to me.

I leaned in until my ear was just inches from his lips, smelling the faint scent of antiseptic and peppermint.