Atticus looks down at me. His eyes are glowing red, two pinprick dots in the otherwise black room. I’m stuck to the bed and shaking, trembling, terrified, but I don’t know why.

“Go ahead,” I say to him. “Go ahead. Go ahead.”

He grins a wicked grin and slams the knife down into me over and over again.

I wake up with a start. I’m sweating, practically shaking. I get out of bed and stumble into the bathroom where I palm some water into my mouth straight from the tap. It’s lukewarm, but I feel like I might get sick.

I used to have nightmares when I was younger. My mom called them night terrors. Atticus was the only person in the world that could calm me down when they hit. He’d get into bed with me and sing softly until I’d fall asleep again. We were really young back then, and I haven’t had a night terror since I was a kid.

My pulse slowly comes down. I walk out into my living room and get a cold glass of water. I sip it, staring at the back wall, trying to make sense of the dream.

When I hear something outside. It sounds like the trash. At first, I think it’s a cat, but I hear it again.

I walk to the window and peek through the blinds. I peer down the side of the house and I can just barely make out a dark figure, rooting through my trash.

I jump back, eyes wide, the terror from my dream striking back into my chest again. I nearly drop my water as I turn and run back into my bedroom.

I dial without thinking. The phone rings and I’m shaking with horror. Someone’s out there, right now, going through my trash. Maybe it’s a fucking homeless guy, or maybe it’s the people that had Kristi so afraid.

I’m about to give up when he finally answers. “Yeah?” he grumbles, voice heavy with sleep.

“Someone’s going through my trash,” I hiss into the receiver.

He pauses a second. “Cora?”

“Someone’s going through my trash,” I hiss again. “Right now.”

“There’s a person outside of your apartment?”

“Yes!”

He sounds more awake now. “Lock your doors. Stay where you are. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Please hurry.”

“Call 911 if they try to come inside. Can you do that?”

“Yes, just hurry.”

Wyatt hangs up the phone. I stare at my bedroom door before shutting it and locking the handle.

I’ve never been this afraid in my entire life. Sitting in my bed like that, listening to every single little sound from outside, I keep imagining how it must have been when Atticus was killed. I bet he was terrified, so beyond afraid. He probably didn’t understand what was happening as people brutally murdered him. And now that might happen to me.

Time slips past. I don’t know how long I’m sitting there, horrified, when suddenly someone’s knocking at my door. The bell rings again and again, and then my phone starts to ring.

It’s Wyatt. I answer right away.

“It’s me. Let me inside.”

I slowly come out of my bedroom door. I creep up to the front door and peer out the top glass. Wyatt’s standing there, looking grim. I throw open the door and he comes inside.

I hug him without thinking. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay.”

“He was out there,” I tell him. “I swear. I saw him.”

“I know,” he says. He shuts the door and locks it before fully letting me go.

“Did you see him?”

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “But your trashcan was open.”

I stare at him. “He must have run when he saw you pull up.”

“That’s my guess.” He sighs and we move further into my living room. He puts me down on the couch and refills my water from the refrigerator.

“What the hell was that?” I ask him. “Why would someone go through my trash?”

“Hard to say,” he answers, sitting next to me. His big body is reassuring in the dark night. He looks tired but alert, wearing the same clothes as earlier. “But I doubt that it’s a coincidence.”

“That what is?”

He looks grim. “That this happens right after we visited with Kristi.”

My eyes go wide. “You think she…?”

“I don’t know,” he says before I can finish. “Could be that they were watching her, too. Saw us show up there and talk to her.”

“Or she told them.”

“Maybe.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.”

“Shit,” I say softly.

He watches me for a second. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, taking a breath. “I think so.”

“You should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” I laugh a little. “I feel silly now.”

“Don’t. I told you this might be dangerous. Are you sure you don’t want to back out?”

“I’m sure,” I say, not really feeling it. “I’m not walking away.”

He nods. “Okay. I’m going to sleep on your couch tonight, if that’s okay.”

I’m surprised by that, but I shouldn’t be. “You’re going to be my bodyguard tonight?”

He grins. “Exactly.”

I smile back and my heart picks up. “Okay,” I say. “I mean, you don’t have to. He’s gone now.”

“I’m here, so I might as well.” He eyes my couch. “Doesn’t look any worse than the bed I’m sleeping on.”

I laugh a little bit and get up. I find him a blanket and a pillow then toss them to him as I come back into the room.

He catches them and puts the pillow behind his head. “Thanks,” he says.

“No, thank you. You really don’t have to stay.”

“Yes, I do.”

I stand there, suddenly very aware that I’m in a skimpy little tank top and some old short shorts, my hair a mess from sleeping. He’s giving me this look that sets my whole body on fire and I’m suddenly afraid of what I just let into my life.

“Well, make yourself at home. I mean, have whatever you want.” I gesture around me.

“And what if what I want is in your room?” he asks softly.

My eyes go wide. “I, uh…”

He grins at me. “Just kidding.”

I nod and laugh a little uncertainly. “Sure, right. Well, good night.”

“Night.” He stretches out on the couch.

I stand there a second, wondering at that comment. Is he saying that he wants to come into my room and sleep with me? But no, I’m just Atticus’s annoying little sister, and he’s still Wyatt Reap. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, not like that. He’s just being a good person right now.

Still, he’s giving me that look, and I know what it means. He’s thinking about what’s on underneath my tank top… and I think he knows it’s nothing.

There’s a hunger in his gaze that shocks me. For a second, I want to tell him to follow me back into my bedroom. He’s so handsome, so intelligent, funny, and smart. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man, and he happens to know me really well, or at least he used to. We have a lot of history together.

Instead, I turn and walk quickly away.

I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know why. This has been such a strange night, starting with the night terror, and now Wyatt sleeping on my couch. He’s going to be out there in the morning, or at least I think he will be. Saturday morning with Wyatt Reap sounds so incredibly… nice.

I get back into bed. I leave my bedroom door open a crack for some reason, maybe as an invitation.

But if he notices, he doesn’t do anything about it. I fall asleep not too long later, and fortunately the night terrors stay away.