The boat ride back to the island broke the final straw of my sanity. I collapsed onto the couch, tightened into a ball in the corner, and clung to the false shield of numbness protecting me. What a ridiculous illusion, the idea of safety.

Maybe my father was right in threatening to have me committed, because I sank into the term “crazy” with a vengeance, especially after Jax showed up and gave Rafe a gun.

Three days had passed since that night, and I still didn’t remember breaking down with much clarity. I had vague recollections of wailing and clawing at Rafe and Jax when they tried to calm me, but I couldn’t remember what had gone through my head, though something had triggered the episode. At first, I thought it was Jax’s presence, but later that evening, when Rafe tucked the gun underneath his pillow on the couch, it hit me.

The image of Zach shooting Rafe wouldn’t leave me alone. I saw it when I stared into nothingness, when I showered, when I slept.

Reporting Zach’s crimes hadn’t helped. The sheriff had patiently listened while I told him the changed version of my story, but I wasn’t sure he believed me. And whatever he’d said to Rafe afterward had sparked his fury. He’d pulled me from the station, a shaky mass of anger, and had threatened to go to the media if they didn’t do something about Zach.

We probably should have gone to Portland, but Portland was where my brother was…unless he was here in Dante’s Pass, stalking me. I pictured him camped out somewhere near the island where he could watch the cabin with his relentless hazel gaze, noting when the lights shut off every night.

I cranked my head and peeked through the windows in the living room with single-minded focus, wondering if he was ogling me now through a pair of binoculars.

Fucking paranoid, Alex.

Zach would have to be high up in the hills on the other side of the river to even spot the cabin, much less see inside it.

“What’s on your mind?” Rafe spooned me, one hand smoothing over my stomach underneath the T-shirt I wore, as if he could wipe away Zach’s carving with his touch. The TV cast a dim glow in the room, though the volume had been turned so low, I strained to catch the real life horrors broadcasting through the screen. We’d been cuddling like this on the couch for the past hour after dinner.