Chapter 18. Fault Lines

The shrill wail of the alarm ripped through the quiet of the night.

Myla shot upright, chest heaving, heart hammering against her ribs. For a moment, she thought it was her nightmare dragging her back under—the shadow pressing down, the hot breath against her cheek—but then the sound sharpened, high-pitched and relentless.

Beside her, Hayden stirred, already reaching for the control panel at his bedside. His face was calm, almost too calm, as if the noise wasn’t sending shards of panic through the house.

“Myla.” His voice was low and steady. “Get behind me.”

The bedroom door slammed open. Beck, bare-chested and tense, a gun in one hand. Jared, right behind him, already pulling on his jacket, eyes sharp, scanning every corner.

“Stay with him,” Jared ordered without preamble. He was already in that col