I staggered back until the backs of my knees hit the bed. My scent spiked and Ifeltit all thick, lush, and impossible to hide. The world narrowed to the hammering of my pulse, the phantom echo of their names still in the air.
I curled onto the bed, dragging the blanket over my head like it could block out the sound.
But the last thing I heard before I drifted under again, half-delirious and trembling, was a voice I couldn’t mistake for a dream.
“Wren, open the door.”
The wind had picked up.
At least, Ithoughtit had. The sound outside deepened, a low rush that could’ve been a storm building… or footsteps crunching through fresh snow. The kind that didn’t echo so much aspressedagainst the air.
I didn’t look.
Couldn’t.
If I looked, I’d see shapes and if I saw shapes, I mightbelievethem.
Dragging the blanket tighter around my shoulders, I curled tighter on the bed, forehead pressed to my knees. My whole body pulsed in waves—hot, cold, electric. Every nerve ending feltwrong, exposed, like the world was rubbing raw salt into me just by existing.
“Stop it,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure who I was begging. “Stop it, stop it, stop it?—”
Outside, the wind howled, catching on the edge of the roof. Something thudded softly against the siding. A tree branch? A boot?
My chest seized.
This wasn’t how heat was supposed to feel. Not thisdeep.Not thislonely.
The suppressants should’ve eased me out gently—years of careful dosing, of keeping everything quiet, contained, professional. I’d prepared for side effects. I’dplannedfor restlessness. A few sleepless nights, sure. Some craving, maybe.
Not this.
Not this complete unraveling of self.
Every breath tasted like lightning and salt and something half-feral. My body didn’t know whether to fight orbeg.I could smell my own scent—thick and sweet, clinging to the walls, bleeding into the air. I hated it.
It filled the cabin like proof.
Proof of everything I’d buried.
Proof that I wasn’t built to be untouchable after all.
Outside, the snow whispered again—soft, slow. Too steady. Tooheavy.
I jerked my head up, staring at the window.
The glass was completely fogged now, every inch blurred to white. But movement shifted behind it—a darker smudge crossing the pane. Another followed. Then another. My pulse spiked so fast I tasted metal.
It was a hallucination. Ithadto be.
I’d heard of this—extreme heats could trigger sensory distortions. You could imagine scents, sounds, touches. Your brain filled in what your body screamed for.
That was all it was.
Except…
When I pressed my palm to the wall, itthudded.
A weight on the other side.
