The storm brought a hungry vampire to her door.
Something far worse was already inside.
Aisling "Ash" has spent years documenting the things polite people pretend not to hear-voices in abandoned buildings, footsteps beneath empty floors, and the strange breathing that moves through disconnected telephone lines.
Rosalie, the sentient old shotgun house Ash has claimed as her own, usually keeps the worst things outside.
Until the hurricane.
Corbin arrives during the eye of the storm, half-starved and sick from daylight. He is old enough to recognize when a house is afraid-and careful enough to ask before crossing its thresholds. He has teeth, hunger, and a past that taught his body to obey even when his mind says no.
But he is not the monster hunting Ash.
The Echo lives in recordings, drains, walls, and the spaces where grief repeats itself. It steals voices, separates sound from meaning, and has been waiting generations for a throat powerful enough to give it flesh.
Ash's throat.
As the storm closes around Rosalie, Ash and Corbin must face the Flock, a congregation that feeds its god teeth, buttons, memories, and the final sounds of the suffering. The closer Ash and Corbin become, the more the Echo learns-from their fear, their desire, and every private sound they never intended it to hear.
Because the Echo can perfectly copy a voice.
It can imitate pleasure.
It can even repeat consent.
But hearing a yes is not the same as understanding what it means.