I’m being paranoid. They clearly followed me, and I was too stupid to realize it.

Maybe St. Clare would be safer without me around.

I’m no criminal. I’m not cut out for any of this.

I cover my face and mini scream into my hand, just a bit, just enough to make me feel better about this shit. My fingers seek out my bracelet, tracing the familiar patterns and hearing an echo of Mom’s laugh as she picked the brightest, silliest beads she could find.

This is all going to pass.

I let all the doubting go.

Plan or no plan.

This is all going to work out okay.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ST. CLARE

My limbs are locked up and not feeling great when I make my way out of the bedroom the next morning. Lars and Perry are who the fuck knows where, and without coffee to give me a jump start, they’re both going to have to put up with me being grumpy and on edge.

A gunshot rips through the air, and I hit the deck fast. My heart is in my throat as I glance around, wait for a shout or an answering fire or something, but all I see are dirty hardwood floors and the dusty underside of the kitchen counter.

Then, a second later, the shot is followed by a muffled voice.

I ease myself from the ground and creep toward the window at the side of the cabin that looks out toward where Lars had a fire last night.

“I told you!”

That’s Perry’s voice. I move faster, pulling the tattered curtain aside to see him and Lars, both holding guns pointed toward the tree line. With no bad guys in sight.

I’m going to fucking kill them.

I cross the cabin and stalk outside to where Perry is loading up his gun again. Before I can reach them, he lets off another shot that hits the center of the circle they’ve cut into the tree bark.

“No way,” Lars says. “Lucky shot.”

“You said that the first time.”

“And I meant it that time too.”

“Should I try for third time lucky?”

“Or maybe,” I cut in, startling them both, “you could try for not scaring the shit out of me when I’ve just woken up.”

Perry covers his mouth, and of course it’s with the hand holding his gun, leaving me astounded that he hasn’t shot himself already. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about that.”

Him? Not thinking? I’m shocked.

Lars tilts his head. “I guess that explains the warnings about a miscommunication for you today.”

“Sure. Because the horoscope obviously knew I’d wake up to gunfire.”

Lars busies himself with checking his own gun’s barrel. “It also said to watch the snapping at people.”

“There’s no way it said that.”