"We should wash this cut," I say, grabbing Rafe by the arm and dragging him over to the sink. As I twist on the water, I add, "I wasn't making it up."

"I never thought you were."

I feel his eyes on my face as I grab the soap and begin gently washing his cut. Something just isn't adding up.

"I felt it before, too," I confess. "That feeling that something was watching me. It happened the first day I was here, when you went to return Dante's ...