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Summary
1931. The heat never breaks, the dead don’t stay buried, and the song your Pa begged you never to play has finally drawn him to your window.
You were only trying to survive the nights. But he was waiting in the dark—something older than sin, hungrier than death, and hellbent on making you his.
Now there’s no sanctuary left. Not in the church. Not in your own skin. You can fight. You can run. But the bond he’s buried in your blood pulls tighter with every breath.
You didn’t mean to call him.
But you did.
And he’s not leaving until you say the words.