Sally's POV
The cabin feels suffocating tonight. I've been staring at my laptop screen for what feels like hours, the cursor blinking mockingly at the end of an unfinished sentence. My fingers hover over the keyboard, but my mind keeps drifting to the patrol routes, to Karl somewhere out there in the darkness with Sean and the new enforcers.
A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the evening air.
I glance toward the window where moonlight filters through the swaying branches. Everything appears peaceful, serene even. But something feels wrong, like the calm before a devastating storm.
That's when it happens.
The sensation starts as barely a whisper, like ice water trickling down my neck. Every hair on my body stands at attention. My heart hammers against my ribs as the bond that normally pulses warm and steady in my chest begins to flutter. Then it cuts out completely.
Silence. Cold, empty silence where Karl should be.
