The Missing Link (Book 1: Outcast) [CURRENTLY EDITING]

CHAPTER FOUR: SALLY

The sound of a door slamming startled me awake. I couldn't tell how long I'd been sleeping, and the feeling of something being terribly wrong hadn't left my system yet. I looked around only to find that the clock on my nightstand marked three thirty eight in red, glowing letters.

Normally, I would've rolled over and continued sleeping, but the sound of an argument coming from across the street made it impossible for me to find slumber's comfort again. It was a quiet neighborhood, which made the bustle outside fire up my already altered nerves. I pushed the covers away and walked quietly toward my window. Moving the curtain a couple of inches from its hook, I peered out.

It took a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light given by streetlamps, but when they did, I became aware of two people standing on the driveway right across the street. Hunter. His name popped in my mind, and I recognized the black shirt and khakis I'd seen him wearing last night. I couldn't pinpoint who the other person was. His uncle, maybe. They looked nothing like each other.

From what I could gather by their body language—tight jaws, fisted hands, puffed chests—they were in the middle of a mildly heated argument, but their voices had lowered considerably. Maybe he had just gotten home and his uncle was lecturing him about it. So then where had he been for the past four and a half hours? Perhaps he'd met up with Will... what about the guy he saw at the bar?

My eyes wandered around with my thoughts, but when they focused back on the scene happening across the street, I noticed the man's gaze had sprung up on my window's direction. I flinched, letting go of the curtains and hiding away into the darkness of the room. My stomach took a steep dive and I felt nauseated. Part of my brain wondered if it was the nerves' fault or the lack of food since yesterday's afternoon snack. Either way, something didn't feel right.

Shit.

The last thing I wanted was to get caught spying on them. I kept trying to convince myself that there was still a slight possibility that he hadn't noticed my presence. My breaths became heavy, quick, so I did my best to steady them and jumped back into the softness of the bed covers. It took a while for sleep to take over the uproar of my thoughts, but when it finally did, I was left to fall asleep with the feeling of someone watching me, bound to dream about Hunter and whoever the guy at the bar was.

ﺵ

Olivia, I want to tell you something.

I could hear his words replaying over and over in my head, the memories of us at the bar, his body barely inches away from mine, but the look the Hunter's face when he had seen guy in the hood also plagued me. The images cycled between last night and the argument. Neither made enough sense to appease the dread growing in the pit of my stomach.

Part of me wanted to fight the urge to find out more about him, to keep me from venturing into dangerous territory. Because that is exactly how it felt: like he was covered in caution tape. But another part of me, the more reckless one, wanted to take a leap of faith and search for answers.