“I almost got you killed!” She’s crying now. Full breakdown. “I was so focused on the lesson, on teaching you to trust your intuition, that I didn’t—I didn’t think he’d actuallybethere. I thought you’d feel some stranger’s bad vibes or sense danger from a dark alley or—nothim. Not at ourdoor.”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “What good is all my intuition if I can’t keep you safe?”
I grab her hands. Pull them away from her face.
“Hey. Look at me.”
She does. Her eyes red. Mascara smudging.
“You didn’t know,” I say firmly. “Neither of us knew he’d escalate this fast.”
“But I should have.” She’s shaking. “I’m the one who sees things. Who knows things. And I sent you out there like you were going for a walk in the park instead of?—”
“Alex.” I squeeze her hands. “I’m okay. I’mhere. The lesson worked.”
“What?”
“My intuition.” I pull the dandelion from my pocket. Wilted now. Broken. But still real. “I felt him before I saw him. My body knew. The danger, the wrongness, all of it. Iknew.”
She stares at the dandelion. Then at me.
“Dahlia warned you.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” My throat feels tight.
“Holy shit.”
“Holy shit,” I agree.
We stand there for a moment. Two women processing impossible things. Magic and murder and intuition all tangled together.
“I’m sorry.” Alex’s voice is small. Younger than I’ve heard it in years. “I should have been closer. Should have stayed right behind you instead of giving you space. Should have?—”
“Should have what? Known a serial killer would be waiting at our door?” I pull her into a hug. “Alex, you followed me. You showed up at exactly the right moment. The door hit him in the face. That’s not coincidence.”
“You think?” She’s muffled against my shoulder.
“I know.” Because I do. My new intuitionknows.
She hugs me back. Fierce. Desperate. Like she’s trying to pull me inside her ribcage where I’ll be safe.
“He violated our space,” she whispers into my shoulder. “Our protected space. The place I sage every day, where we’re supposed to besafe.”
Her voice breaks on the last word.
And I realize: this isn’t just scary for her. It’s personal. She trusted her intuition to keep us safe, and he still found us. Her gifts didn’t warn her in time.
“You got there in time,” I say firmly. “He didn’t get in. You stopped him. He had to wait outside like some creep because you wouldn’t let him cross the threshold.”
“You don’t know that?—”
“I do.” I pull back. Look her in the eyes. “Alex, I’m standing here. Alive. Because you taught me to listen. Because Dahlia warned me. Because you showed up exactly when I needed you. We’re okay.”
She searches my face. Looking for the lie. The performance. The Dylan who pretends everything’s fine when it’s not.
But I’m not performing anymore.
“We’re okay,” I repeat.
