Chloe felt it first in her chest.
A clench. A drop. Like the floor had fallen an inch under her feet and her body was the only one who noticed.
Her heart tightened, the way it always did before something bad.
And without thinking, she moved.
She ran down the stairs.
Bypassed the living room without even looking at the guest whom she had called ten minutes ago.
Straight to the front door.
Her hand hit the knob and threw it open.
Dylan stood there.
Languid. Lazy in that way he never managed to erase from himself, even after everything. His shoulders were loose, his weight shifted to one hip. His back was to her.
She couldn't see his expression, but she didn't need to.
From memory, she could draw it perfectly.
That small, soft smile.
The one he always wore when he was doing something evil and calling it necessary.
The man standing before him — Felix — was sweating.
