Page 149 of Where the Snakes Sleep

“Camille—”

“Do not go toward the cottage,” he repeats, gripping my shoulders harder. “If they are here because of Alberte, they may have someone watching it. Go south through the trees until you hit the river, then follow it to town.”

My heart is slamming so violently against my ribs that I feel sick. “You’re talking like you know they have guns.”

“I don’t.”

“But you think they might.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re going out there?”

“I need to know how they entered.”

“Bullshit. No. Call the police.”

“I already triggered the silent emergency response from my phone.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.” My voice cracks.

Camille’s face softens. “Listen to me,” he says. “Whatever happens outside this room, you do not open the interior door unless you are certain it is me.”

“How?”

“I will identify myself.”

“That’s not enough. Somebody could make you.”

His eyes sharpen; he thinks for barely a second. “Encore.”

I blink. “W-what?

“If I return, I will say ‘encore.’ If I say anything else, you do not open this door.”

My throat tightens painfully. “And if you don’t come back?” He doesn’t answer. “Camille.”

“I need to go.” His hands begin to leave me.

I grab his wrists. “No!”

His gaze drops to my fingers, then rises to my face. “I know you’re angry with me.”

“This has nothing to do with that.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. I don’t—” My breath catches, and I hate how quickly fear has stripped away all the complicated rules I spent days building around him. “I don’t want you going out there.”

Camille looks almost destroyed by that. He then leans closer until his forehead touches mine.

The gesture is so gentle that it hurts.

“I need you safe,” he whispers.