Wren’s window.
A shadow.
A flicker.
A shift.
Not her.
Not the height.
Not the shape.
Not the movement.
My blood turns to ice.
Atlas whispers, “That’s not Wren.”
He’s right.
My body moves before my mind catches up.
“Atlas—GO!”
He bolts across the street like a missile, taking the steps three at a time, slamming into the building door hard enough the hinges scream.
I’m right behind him.
He disappears up the stairwell.
I hear his footsteps pounding.
Then silence.
Then—
“KAEL!”
It’s not a shout.
It’s a warning.
My heart stops.
I take the stairs two at a time, rounding the second-floor landing so fast I slip, catch myself, keep moving.
Third floor.
Second door on the right.
Her door.
Atlas stands in front of it, chest heaving, eyes wide with something I’ve never seen in him.
Fear.
He looks at me and shakes his head slowly.
