A cold clarity settled over her mind as she pinpointed the source of the static. She wasn’t helpless. She had her own teeth and claws.
Her kidnapper might have been an extremely powerful luminist, but their aura was unguarded. They hadn’t locked themselves behind a psychic barrier. They cast their emotions out in a wide, staticky arc without thought for the vulnerability it could become.
Got you, motherfucker.
Atria focused on them, blocking out the oppressive darkness, the stink, the physical discomfort of being locked inside a trunk. Her magic seeped into the air around her and through the vehicle to sink a thousand psychic fingers into her kidnapper.
A shudder ran down her spine at the feeling of their aura.
There was emotion there, far below the fuzziness that filled her head with white noise, but it was… wrong. It was as if there were two people existing as one: the static, muted and calm, and then the heart, which thrashed like an animal caught in a trap. In its desperation to be free, it was slowly but surely tearing itself apart.
There was so much horror there that Atria almost instinctively recoiled. Nausea rushed up her throat, but she managed to swallow it down again. Something waswrongwith her kidnapper. Really, really wrong. They were damaged, their emotional and psychic center split down the middle like an overripe fruit.
When she probed deeper, all the fine, nearly invisible hairs on her body stood up.
Tampered with.That’s how they felt. She could feel the residue of another person’s magic in their aura, clinging like a film over their airways.
Her initial plan was to wait for their speed to slow and then unleash a terror inside them like a nuclear bomb, a much deadlier version of what she’d done to Vesta — the kind of emotional burst that could break a person’s mind. She’d never done it before, neverwantedto, but this person had taken her from her mate. They were probably the same person who’d kidnapped Ruby. They didn’t deserve her mercy.
And yet Atria paused, rethinking that plan as they took a sharp right turn.
With the film in place, there was every chance that a terror bomb might not actually work. It could be muted by that residue or only destroy that thrashing heart. Attempting it would cost her time. Unfortunately, time was the only thing that mattered. Who knew where they were taking her, who they would deliver her to? The possibility that her tracker could be discovered and removed grew more likely with every second they sped down United Washington’s roads.
She couldn’t waste precious seconds trying something that might not work.
But the film… That will work.Atria plucked at it, ran her psychic fingers over its unnatural stickiness, and made her decision.
Someone powerful had attempted to permanently tamper with this person’s mind. That sort of thing always came with significant risks, particularly in its failure. Every mind, every emotional and magical core, was its own intricate system meant to be handled only with extreme skill and delicacy. Making sweeping, permanent changes — like putting up a block in a person’s mind to muffle feeling, free will — was highly dangerous and took someone with skill and training to remove safely.
But they were never, ever removed without severe side effects. In ideal conditions, a victim might endure treatment for years as experts worked to mitigate those side effects.
Atria was skilled, trained, and extremely motivated. Unfortunately for her kidnapper, she didn’t have time to give a shit about the side effects.
She sucked in a deep breath. Held it. The vehicle began to slow.
Now.
A thousand psychic fingers curled into the film and pulled at once. It tore away from her kidnapper’s aura with an unnatural sensation like nails raking down a chalkboard.
There was a suspended moment of stillness and then—
Horror. Confusion. Disgust. Fear.
The vehicle swerved hard and then bucked, sending her crashing against the spare tire as the illusion of shadows finally lifted. Atria’s sight returned, but there was nothing to see besides the thinnest seam of light where the hatch wasn’t quite flush with the car. Didn’t matter.
Her limbs worked again. The car jerked to a stop just as she began to claw at the carpet and mechanism around what had to be the tail lights in front of her, searching for the emergency release. Adrenaline somehow kept her hands steady even as she felt the slam of a car door rattle the frame all around her.
Where is the fucking— There!
Her index finger curled around a flexible plastic tab. She yanked as hard as she could.
Light exploded, momentarily blinding her, but Atria didn’t have time to be stunned. Eyes watering, she jackknifed into a sitting position, one arm lifted to raise the hatch. The outside world was a blur of brick, grim industrial buildings, broken-down cars, and what might have been some sort of waterfront. Buildings were all around them, partially shading them from the spring sunlight.
She didn’t stop to wonder where she was, nor if there were bystanders who might help her. Kaz’s baritone was a commanding bark in her mind:You haul ass.
Atria threw her legs out of the trunk and then levered her upper body out. Gritty asphalt rose up to meet her. She landed hard on her knees just as a low, masculine groan echoed in the— alley? Yes, she thought, scrambling to stand, they’d pulled haphazardly into an alleyway.
Worse than the murder duffle bag! Only terrible things happen in alleyways!
