The tires screeched before the car even fully stopped.
Mara Hale stumbled out, hair disheveled, eyes red—looking like someone who had run here on borrowed breath. She scanned the shoreline with frantic movements until her gaze found the pale form on the sand.
Her knees nearly buckled.
"No," she whispered. "No… Elara… please—"
Alec stepped toward her, instinctively, but Mara recoiled as if his presence burned.
"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't you come near me."
Alec froze.
He didn't blame her.
Mara dropped to her knees beside Elara's body. Her hands hovered inches above Elara's face, trembling violently, but she couldn't bring herself to touch her. Couldn't bring herself to feel how cold she had become.
"I told her to call me if she felt lonely," Mara choked out. "I told her. I told her."
Her voice cracked, breaking into jagged sobs.
Alec swallowed hard. "Mara… none of this is your fault."
She snapped her head toward him, fury blazing through her grief.
"You left her!" she screamed. "You walked away when she needed you. Don't you stand there pretending you cared more than anyone!"
Alec's jaw clenched, but he didn't speak. Not because she was wrong—but because the truth hurt too much to say out loud.
Mara looked at Elara again, brushing a thumb under her chin, memorizing the shape of her face the way one memorizes a home before it's destroyed.
"She told me she felt something in her room," Mara whispered. "Cold spots. Whispers. Shadows moving near the window. I told her it was stress." Tears slid down her cheeks. "She wasn't crazy. She knew something was coming."
Alec felt Harlow's gaze shift in his direction—silent confirmation that he'd heard the same things.
Mara leaned closer to Elara's ear as though speaking to someone who had simply fallen asleep.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"
A sudden rush of wind whipped across the lake.
Cold.
Sharp.
Wrong.
Mara stiffened, goosebumps rising across her arms. The mist around them thickened abruptly, swirling in slow, deliberate circles. Harlow instinctively reached for his gun, though even he didn't know what he expected to shoot.
Alec's breath caught.
He felt it again—the presence.
Watching.
Listening.
The mist tightened around the three of them like a closing fist.
Mara lifted her head suddenly, her eyes widening. "Did you hear that?"
Alec's heart slammed against his ribs.
"What did you hear?"
"A voice," she whispered. "Her voice."
The mist recoiled—then snapped backward like someone yanking a curtain.
And then it was gone.
Just as fast as it had come.
They stood in silence, breaths visible in the air despite it not being cold enough for that.
Harlow steadied himself. "We need to move the body. This place…" He stared out over the lake. "Something isn't right here."
Mara wiped her eyes, standing slowly. "I'm not leaving her alone."
"You won't have to," Alec said quietly.
Mara flinched at the sound of his voice but didn't look at him.
As the forensic team approached with the stretcher, Alec stepped back, his gaze still on the lake.
Then something caught his eye.
A piece of white fabric lodged between two rocks at the water's edge.
He walked toward it, heart picking up speed.
It was a scrap of Elara's dress—blue staining the edges like ink. But the blue wasn't just colour.
It shimmered.
Liquid.
Almost alive.
Alec reached out—
"Alec, don't touch that!" Mara called sharply.
But his fingers brushed the fabric.
A burning chill shot through his body—icy, electric, violent—like a scream made of cold.
He gasped and stumbled backward, clutching his hand. The fabric dissolved into the water like smoke.
Harlow ran toward him. "Rowan! What the hell happened?"
Alec stared at his trembling hand.
A faint mark appeared on his wrist.
A small, delicate, unmistakable blue fingerprint.
The same one found on Elara.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Mara covered her mouth, horrified.
Harlow's face drained of colour.
Alec lifted his eyes toward the lake.
And what he saw made his blood turn to ice.
Far beyond the reach of the mist, standing on the water as if the lake were solid glass, was the silhouette of a woman.
Still.
Watching.
Blue.
And as the first sliver of dawn rose behind her, she lifted one finger and pointed directly at Alec.
His breath shattered.
Because the gesture wasn't a threat.
It was a summons.
You're next.