Chapter 5

For a second I honestly think I’ve done it—I’ve finally snapped. The voice in the hallway is his. Not Noah’s. Not anyone I know from this building. It’s the voice from the truck, from the house, from the blood-slick asphalt. “Em, open the door.” The words slide under the threshold like smoke. The power’s still out. My apartment is a rectangle of black, only the streetlight from the alley slicing a dim bar across the floor. My phone buzzes in my hand, Noah’s name glowing...