“Before I liked cars, yachts, having a door to lock, and you. :)”

“Before, I liked cars, yachts, a door locked from the inside, and you. :)”

“Bryn?"Chase's voice was a whisper in my mind, and the sensation sent a single chill up my spine."Yes?""You asked me what I liked, before." He paused, and all the silence tickled my mind, the chill in my spine climbing its way to the hairs on the back of my neck. "Before, I loved cars, Yeats, having a bedroom that locked from the inside, and you.”

“I had my knife in hand before I realized I'd reached for it and had kicked open the...front door before it ever occurred to me that it might have already been unlocked.”

“Rather than sleeping myself, I practiced. I practiced taking everything I'd seen in the last few days-every horror, every drop of blood-and locking it away, so deep in my mind that I could pretend that nothing had happened.And then I practiced letting it out.This time, I didn't start with a specific memory. I didn't walk myself step by step through a scene. Instead, I built a room inside my head-a tiny room with white walls and no windows and no doors. No way out.In that room, I put the sound of screams, tearing flesh, and heavy breathing, the smell of rancid blood. Everything I'd been holding back, everything threatening to devour me whole was there-in the ceiling of that room, the corners, the floor.”

“Good boy, Devon," I taunted. "You got me home before dark. If you can sit, shake and roll over, too, I'm sure Callum will give you a doggie treat.”

“You can't tell me I matter and then leave like I don't.”