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Avery's POV
The shock hit me before my brain even had time to process the news.
My heart went into overdrive. My hands trembled. A cold sweat slid down my spine. Every breath felt like an effort, every pulse like a thunderclap inside my skull.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, unable to speak. The words refused to pass my lips.
My eyes widened as I stared at Sam, searching his face for contradiction. For reassurance.
There was none.
"Avery… are you okay?" he stammered, his voice carrying as much worry as the fear flooding through me.
I shook my head slightly, incapable of answering.
A nervous tic made me run my hand through my hair again and again as I stepped back, my gaze unfocused, trying to understand how something that horrible could have happened in my house.
My breathing came out in short, broken bursts. My legs threatened to give out at any second.
Nausea rose in my throat.
I couldn't… I couldn't believe it.
Sam stepped back too, hesitating. His hands lifted instinctively, as if to steady me—but he froze, afraid the slightest movement would make me bolt.
"Avery…" he murmured gently. "It's okay… okay…"
But I wasn't listening anymore.
My mind had locked onto the image of the house. On that so-called body.
On Killian.
I made a decision without thinking.
I couldn't stay there. Not another second.
Before Sam could grab me, I turned and pushed through the door of Shade Diner's.
The bell chimed behind me, but I didn't register it.
I felt Sam's hand brush my arm.
"Avery! Wait!" he shouted, breathless.
I clenched my teeth, dodged his grip, and started running down the street, pedestrians blurring around me.
"Avery!" he yelled again, but his voice didn't reach me.
I took the shortcuts I knew by heart—one alley, then another.
My shoes slammed against the pavement with desperate urgency.
Sam's words kept spinning in my head, heavy, impossible to silence.
A body.
In my house.
The street suddenly felt too narrow. Too bright. Every face I passed seemed to recognize me. I lowered my head and walked faster.
When I finally stopped, it was only to catch my breath—and to realize exactly where I was.
The street.
The number.
The house.
I froze.
Yellow tape blocked the entrance.
My stomach twisted violently.
Police Line — Do Not Cross.
It wasn't a misunderstanding.
Not a rumor.
It was real.
I stood there for several seconds, unable to move forward, unable to turn back. Then, almost mechanically, I ducked under the tape, lifting it with trembling fingers.
The front door wasn't locked.
It never had been.
I pushed it open.
The smell hit me first.
Metallic. Cold. Mixed with something faintly rotten.
The house was… different.
Not ransacked like in the movies.
But disturbed in a subtle, unsettling way.
The vase near the entrance was shattered.
Shards littered the floor, exactly where I remembered seeing it intact the last time.
A drawer hadn't been fully closed.
A chair slightly out of place.
I shut the door behind me.
The sound echoed too loudly.
My heart was pounding so violently I felt like it might break free from my chest.
"Killian…" I whispered without realizing.
No answer.
My feet carried me toward the kitchen.
I didn't want to go.
But my body already knew.
Where he had been.
Where we had left him.
The kitchen was empty.
Too empty.
A chair lay overturned.
The table bore a dark, irregular stain I had never seen before.
I was barely breathing.
Then I saw it.
The white outline on the floor.
A body that had been there.
My entire body went cold.
I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the scream threatening to escape. My legs shook so badly I had to brace myself against the counter.
Blood.
Dried.
In places.
I stepped back slowly, tears blurring my vision.
"No… no… no…"
It wasn't possible.
Even if he had hurt Daniel… even if he had tried to hurt me too… I had never wished him dead.
I remembered the amused expression on his face.
His last whispered words to me.
"We'll see each other again."
A creak echoed through the house.
Sharp.
Distinct.
The floorboards.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat.
I wasn't alone.
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