I wake with a gasp, certain I’m dead.
My body feels heavy, and instead of the leather seats of the Gulfstream, scratchy fabric digs into my skin.
A car. I’m in the back of a moving car. And my clothes are different—the dress I was wearing has been replaced by something black and practical, almost military. And the matching combat boots? Yeah, those definitely weren’t pulled from my closet.
“Back with us, I see.” T’s voice floats from the driver’s seat, as if we hadn’t just been struck by silver lightning and survived a plane crash.
“What happened?” I bolt upright, wincing as pain sears my skull.
“You passed out.” She meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, her expression maddeningly calm. “The storm startled you.”
“Startled me?” I grip the back of the passenger seat, my fingers leaving scorch marks on the fabric. “The plane was going down! There was lightning everywhere, and you touched my forehead, and then?—”
“We landed safely about an hour ago.” She takes a sharp turn, and I grab the handle before I faceplant. “Everything’s fine.”
I shake my head, unable to make sense of this. Because nothing about this is fine. My skin feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. Sparks keep flickering through my nerves, and my fire feels… feral. Like it’s burning hotter than ever, daring me to lose control.
“Where are we?” I look out the windows as pine trees blur beneath the gray sky, trying to ground myself in something normal. Somethingreal.
“We’re almost there,” she replies.
I lean forward, gripping the seat again. “T, seriously. Where the hell are we?”
Her silence stretches too long.
“I need my phone.” I pat down my pockets, finding nothing. “Where’s my phone? I need to call my parents.”
“Your belongings are in the trunk,” she says, slowing the car. “You’ll get them when we arrive.”
“To the school?”
“To the beginning of your true education.” She navigates the narrow mountain road like she’s driven it a thousand times, and then the trees break ahead, revealing a large clearing. “We’re here.”
She pulls the car to a stop, and through the windshield, I count seven people standing in the clearing. They’re just waiting there, watching, as if they’re expecting us.
“You’re seriously just leaving me here?” I ask, not moving. “With strangers?”
“They won’t be strangers for long.” She’s already out, opening my door. “Come on. Out you go.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She pulls me out of the car with more force than necessary, and it’s a miracle I remain standing instead of falling to the ground.
As I steady myself, I become suddenly aware of the seven strangers staring at me like I’m an exhibit in a museum. Five of them look about my age—three girls and two boys. The other two guys are older, maybe early twenties. One of them practically vibrates with a mix of perfect control and barely leashed violence, his storm-gray eyes tracking my movements like he’s deciding whether to strike now or later. The other looks like he crawled out of a weapons catalog, all sharp edges and cruelty wrapped in skin.
The car door suddenly slams shut, and my attention snaps back to where T’s already sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Good luck, Jade,” she says, the locks clicking. “And remember—you can always trust the stars.”
“What? No, you can’t just—“ But she’s already backing up, tires crunching on gravel. I lunge, but the car spins in a perfect three-point turn before I can reach it. “My luggage! My phone!”
The engine growls, then fades into the trees, leaving me standing empty-handed, like the world’s dumbest abandoned puppy.
Perfect. Just perfect.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
“Jade Harrington?” someone asks from behind me, his voice clipped and precise.
