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Before it’d been beautiful.

Now it felt… wrong.

I lowered my gaze.

Counted steps instead.

I didn’t turn at the library.

No.

I went to the kitchen instead.

Silence.

No Mrs. Reid. Not yet at least.

I had to hurry.

My gaze swept the kitchen automatically. Stopped at the large knife block. I pulled out the largest. The blade caught the weak morning light. The edge marked… yet honed. The blade held me. Brushed steel just like the one he⁠—

I put it back.

Pulled out the next one.

Smaller.

The blade thinner.

Still long.

Long enough.

I turned around, grabbed a cloth, wrapped the blade carefully before slipping it into my pocket. But one weapon wasn’t enough. I opened cupboards. Pulled out drawers. Picked up a large jar of preserved pears and weighed it in my hand. Kept it with me.

I went back to my room.

Slipped the knife under my pillow.

The jar on the floor at the far side of the bed.

Then I left once more, locking the door again.

The library.

I moved to the fireplace, picked up the poker. My fingers curling around the handle. I swung once. Caught my own reflection in the window. I didn’t look like me. Not anymore.

I carried it with me as I stopped at the doors to the side of the house.

Rafe used these doors.

When he headed to the garage.

I pushed down and headed outside.

Cold air hit me. I sucked in a breath and hurried down the stairs. The black sedan was gone. Something inside me tightened instantly. The door to the garage open. I’d find something in there. Ropes hung from hooks. I reached out but the moment my fingers curled around the knots I froze.

He could tie me with this.