Anthony woke up with beads of sweat on his forehead, his heart pounding in his chest. He had a troubled night. He had a bad dream and the dream had been so real, so vivid. In it, he was being led away in handcuffs, his wrists bound tightly as the police officers dragged him toward a cold, dark prison cell. The sound of the cell door slamming shut behind him echoed in his ears.
He sat up in bed, trying to shake off the dreadful feeling of fear. It was just a dream, he told himself, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was a warning, a glimpse of the possible future he had just signed himself up for. The deal with Nathan was already haunting him, and he hadn't even started down that path yet.
Beside him, Claire stirred and opened her eyes. She looked at Anthony, her face still soft from sleep, and noticed the troubled expression on his face. "Anthony," she said quietly, reaching out to touch his arm. "What's wrong? You don't look good."
