Page 34 of White Noise

My mouth falls open.

“What the fuck are you?”

Silas slowly turns his face back toward me.

I expect rage. Anger. Some kind of violent reaction.

Anything but the look he gives me.

Silas touches the cut, glances at his fingers, then looks back at me with a slow smile spreading across his face like I just gave him exactly what he wanted.

He looks fucking delighted.

Whatever heat was still tangled up with the fear disappears instantly.

Yeah. No.

Absolutely fucking not.

I shove away from the wall and run as his laugh follows me.

I hit the stairs hard and take them two at a time, expecting him to grab me before I make the bottom. Nothing touches me. By the time I reach the front door, I’m already punching my code into the security panel again.

ACCESS DENIED.

“Come on.”

I enter the code again, but I get the same answer. The red light flashes back at me like it’s fucking mocking me.

Behind me, the television in the living room flickers hard enough to throw white light across the walls. I turn toward it just as static rolls over the screen.

Silas is standing in the hallway now.

I never heard him come downstairs.

He leans one shoulder against the wall like this isn’t a chase and I’m not standing there trying to escape him. His posture is loose, almost lazy, but there’s nothing relaxed about the way he watches me. His eyes move over my face, down to my hand still wrapped around the front door handle, then back up again.

“You’re making this too fucking easy.”

“How did you⁠—”

His mouth pulls into a slow smile. “Does it matter?”

Not really.

Not when every answer I get only makes things worse.

I bolt toward the kitchen instead.

The sliding balcony door is my next best option, and I grab the handle with both hands, yanking hard enough that pain shoots up my wrist. It doesn’t move.

The smart lock has engaged there too.

“No, no, no. Fuck.”

I try it again even though I already know it’s pointless, then glance over my shoulder.

Silas is coming toward me.