I can't draw in a full breath as a woman in an oversized coat and fuzzy earmuffs rushes to a stop in front of me, holding up a microphone. Those negative emotions continue to roll off of her in waves, curdling the air around me. Someone with a camera is right beside her, their anger also directed at me.
Anxiety spikes throughout my veins when that camera fixes on me, a red dot blinking beside the lens.
"Excuse me. YouareHeidi Elise Murley, aren't you?" the woman demands.
…what?
How does she know my name?
"I, um…" I falter, my throat drying up as their loathing curls around me.
My phone starts buzzing as Everett tries to call me. Confused by the emotions pounding against my chest and throat, I try to step back, but someone bumps into me from behind. They apologize, but notice the camera and frown, stopping with their jogging partner as curiosity wells up around them. I notice a car slowing as it passes, as if its driver is wondering why I'm on camera.
My inner animal tenses inside me.
Like me, she knows something is very wrong here.
"What do these fae want from you?" Athanis asks, confused.
Fae?
The mic woman's blue gaze is piercing, but as she turns toward the camera, I notice her ears are pointed under the earmuffs. The cameraman is also fae.
"Good morning, Chicago. I'm Kaitlyn Parks with CCS 35. We begin with breaking news: multiple verified sources have just confirmed that while many elite legacies were famously slaughtered in what has become known as the Purge of the Elites, there is, in fact, another surviving member of the infamous Frost family. She is standing before you now.”
11
HEIDI
My stomach dropsto my feet.
Now I really can't breathe.
The fae woman turns back to me. She sounds professional enough for the camera, but the hostility splashing off of her and onto me makes me shrink in on myself.
"Miss Murley, many reports are now identifying you as the estranged daughter of the late war criminals Corbin and Daphne Frost. Is it true that you sought safety with them during the Upheaval, but you were turned away?"
She shoves the microphone in my face.
My parents' names ring in my ears. My mouth goes dry as my world starts to spin.
This can't happen. I can't do this. I can't think up a lie or a defense as these strangers' emotions coalesce like bile in my stomach, filling me with their hate and anger and insult.
Run.
"Elise, get away from them," Athanis urges.
"Miss Murley?" she repeats insistently, brushing hair out of her face when the cold breeze picks up.
Get away. Leave. Run. Let me run.
I can't afford to freeze up right now.
"Excuse me," I choke out, trying to move past her as my phone starts ringing again.
My heart leaps into my throat when someone else grips my arm through my jacket, subtly holding me in place. This person has pointed ears, too, and their anger burns through my sleeve until I'm sweating and shaking. The reporter is still here with that blinking camera.
More people have stopped on the street nearby, watching and listening as their emotions swirl around me. A crowd is forming, and people are honking angrily on the road beside us, near the busy intersection where drivers have slowed to look.
