Page 151 of At First Spark
It is, even if it makes this harder. Her shoulders ease just slightly, the tension between us shifting but not disappearing.
“Good,” she says softly.
We stand there for a second longer, the quiet stretching between us in a way that feels less like distance and more like recalibration, then something slams against the back window.
Every muscle in my body tightens instantly while Lark stills. Rook lifts his head, a low sound rumbling in his chest.
“What the hell—”
“Stay here,” I say, already moving.
I cross the house fast, rounding the corner toward the back of the property just as Rook launches into another barking fit behind me. My boots hit damp earth, eyes scanning the edge of the yard, the line where the grass meets the trees. Nothing. Just the faint sway of branches still settling after the storm.
The yard is empty, but movement catches near the tree line. A dark SUV tears down the dirt road beyond the fence line, tires kicking mud behind it as it disappears between the trees.
“Fuck.”
My pulse pounds hard against my ribs as I scan the property anyway, instincts refusing to settle. Too open. Too exposed. Whoever it was never intended to get close enough to be caught.
Only close enough to send a message.
I turn toward the window, then finally see it. A rock wrapped in white paper sits beneath the glass where it must’ve hit.
My stomach drops.
I step closer slowly, every instinct screaming at me to check the perimeter first, to make sure I’m not walking into something worse. But the paper pulls my attention, anchored there like a challenge.
The paper is damp from the grass when I crouch and unwrap it.
A photograph.
Another one.
This time, it’s not the house, not the yard, but Lark standing in the barn. It’s from last night. And beneath it, written in sharp, deliberate handwriting:
You should have stayed inside.
Cold moves through me in a way fire never has. Behind me, the back door opens.
“Holt?”
I turn too fast.
“Don’t come any closer.”
But she’s already there, already seeing it, already understanding. The silence that follows is absolute.
This is a message, and it’s not subtle. This person isn’t just escalating. They’re targeting. And now…there’s no question who they’re after.
Chapter Twenty-nine – Lark
I stand at the kitchen sink with my hands braced against the counter, staring out into the dark stretch of land behind the house, the faint outline of the pasture just visible under the low wash of moonlight. The barn sits at the edge of that space, quiet now, rebuilt enough to stand but not enough to erase what happened there.
Nothing about this feels erased. The image comes back without warning. That photograph. The angle. The timing. The way it captured something that wasn’t meant for anyone else.
The way it proved she was close enough to see us.
I close my eyes briefly, forcing a slow breath through my lungs, trying to shake the tension that’s been building all day. It doesn’t work. It hasn’t worked since the moment Holt handed the note over to the deputy, and I realized this wasn’t just someone circling the property.
