e Hol

suits and hushed whispers

I sa

Holt. M

It had been ten years since I last saw him

lways a distant figure in our family.

at him. He smiled. A

mind sc

unfiltered terro

g I had when Hoover showed m

legs turned to jelly, barely able to hold my weight. It was an icy dread, fundamentally different

ot a norma

s ins

moved with a graceful, unhurried eleg

retained a boyish charm, yet posse

. Too p

ed-the feeling I had brushed off as a chil

esperately tryin

st hasn't aged much. He

ending was screaming danger. My heart pounded agai

me, his smile radiant. "Cor

inctively, I flinched and pulled awa

econd, a tiny crack appearing in his flawless ma

y, withdrawing his hand. "I see

she pulled Braden into a tight hug. "Braden, honey! Look at you!

en hugged her back, that sam

g. She couldn't see it

, I had a

n to heave, a sickening rippling motion visible beneath his shirt. The fabric stretched, then tore open, revealing a gory, gaping maw filled with razor-sharp teeth and writhing meat.

cold sweat, g

the memory of the nightmare cl

t hammering like a drum. That wasn

ing with us because my mother insisted he

oed in my head: "Your instinct w

was a R

was sleeping in our

ries we

s trauma, and the taste of

ather's description of Reptil

ents stiff. I needed answe

d a small, leather-bound journal, filled wit

s. Reptilian, they do it too perfectly. They lack those subtle, unc

chill settling into my bone

that unsettling stillness about him. Hi

osing myself? How could I prove it? My mi

real. Braden

before your brain does. Because those who

Braden was wrong; th

u

ng? What if Brade

made my bl

ing to murder