“That is crazy,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “I am just a waitress.”

“They do not care about the truth, Mara,” Alina said, her voice growing more frantic.

“They are looking for you. They have been asking questions around the neighborhood all night.”

“And Mara… someone leaked your location to them.”

A cold dread pooled deep in my stomach.

“What do you mean?”

“They know you are at the estate,” Alina whispered.

“They are planning to—”

The line suddenly went dead with a sharp crackle of static.

I stared at my phone, but the screen showed the call had disconnected entirely.

I tried to redial her number, but it went straight to a automated voicemail message.

Outside my window, a low roll of thunder rumbled through the night sky.

Bishop suddenly stood up from the rug, his ears pricking forward.

He stared intently at the heavy wooden door of my bedroom.

A low, warning growl rumbled deep in his throat.

Then, from somewhere downstairs, the sound of glass shattering echoed through the quiet house.

The phone buzzed in my hand again, vibrating against my cold palm.