Finally, the voice returns, curt and resigned. “Call us when you have a better idea of where she’ll exit the wards.”
The line goes dead.
***
Arwen
Hours… or minutes… or maybe entire lifetimes crawl by. Time doesn’t exist out here except for the moon inching along like it’s in no hurry to save me. The woods feel endless, swallowing me whole, shadows stretching like they’re waiting to drag me under.
The darkness thickens the deeper I go. Powers would be amazing right now—just one tiny spark, one little supernatural flashlight maybe?
But no. I’m stuck relying on the creek’s whisper, the tilt of the ground, the moon’s halfhearted glow. I let my instincts carry me forward.
Every sound feels louder—crunching brush, shifting branches, my own ragged breathing.
Holly, Tabby, Cleo flicker through my mind. Sadie. Sly. Brix. People I’ll never see again. Something hot slips down my cheek before I can stop it—a stupid, traitorous tear. I bite the inside of my lip so hard it stings.
No. Not now. Tears won’t save me. Escape will. Survival doesn’t wait for tears. Survival doesn’t care about heartbreak or betrayal.
I have to be getting close to Academy Hollow. I have to. But the panic twisting in my gut won’t let me believe it. If I’m lucky, I’ll hit the outskirts soon—grab supplies, find some hole to hide in, breathe for two seconds.
If I’m unlucky… Well, the universe and I both know where it likes to place its bets.
***
Atticus
I jolt upright, breath dragging in as though I’ve surfaced from drowning. Sweat slicks my skin, cold against the heat burning beneath it. My pulse hammers far too fast, and for a moment the room tilts.
I’m on my feet before thought even catches up, flicking on the light, scanning every shadow as if an intruder might dare step foot into my space.
Nothing. Just silence. Empty air.
Yet my chest feels as if it’s splitting open, something feral trying to claw its way out. The bond pain has been excruciating these past months, but this—this is a different breed entirely. Sharper. Dire.
Something is wrong.
It’s Arwen. It has to be.
The truth settles over me with brutal certainty, the same instinct that seized me the day she fled the locker room in fear. Only now the pull is stronger—devastating, undeniable.
She’s in danger.
And every instinct I possess is screaming at me to go.
I dress in seconds, not with my usual precision. My hand moves directly to the loose brick in the wall, retrieving the dagger hidden there, the familiar weight grounding me for half a breath.
Then I’m moving—down the stairs, out of Pride Tower—each step a blur. The pull in my chest drags me south, not toward her dorm. What is going on? Where is she?
Despite the tug in the opposite direction, I go through the motions, striding to her door and knocking hard enough to wake the entire floor. Let them complain. I’ll deal with the consequences later.
No answer.
My fist hits the wood again, harder. If I have to break it off its hinges, I will.
The door yanks open. Her roommate stands there—hair a rat’s nest, eyes glassy, reeking of cheap tequila. She blinks at me, scowling. “What the hell do you want?”
Hardly surprising. I’m not here for courtesy.
